


La Ville Lumière

by shadhahvar



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Day Five Prompt: Toys, Day Four Prompt: Free, Day One Prompt: Exploration, Day Seven Prompt: Positions, Day Six Prompt: BDSM, Day Three Prompt: Roleplay, Day Two Prompt: Clothes, Elevator Makeouts, Emotions And Sex, Established Relationship, Feelings, Finger Sucking, Fluff, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Ice Play, Impatient Sex, Intercrural Sex, Let's Play Bodyguard, Lingerie, M/M, Mirror Sex, More Frottage, More Intercrural, More Shower Handjobs, NSFW Victuuri Week 2017, Or bondage accessories that are basically lingerie, Paris (City), Partially Clothed Sex, Playing Footsie to Win, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Prostate Massage, Prostate Milking, Sex Toys, Summer Vacation, Temperature Play, Victor just wants Yuri literally on top of him he enjoys this okay, boyfriend shirt, handjobs, shower blowjobs, there was suit kink in here for five seconds in chapter six actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-11-30 18:17:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 56,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11469027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadhahvar/pseuds/shadhahvar
Summary: When Victor and Yuri take a week to vacation in Paris, France, neither one of them know exactly what to expect.  Taking time for themselves when they'll be right back on the grind of training soon after feels like too much of a luxury, but it might be exactly what they need.  Even if it does all start out with Yuri's luggage getting sent to Shanghai.(For the prompts Day 1 - Day 7 in NSFW Victuuri Week 2017.)





	1. exploration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vagrancing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vagrancing/gifts).



They were off to a rocky start before they even left, Yuri running around looking for his socks, of all things. Victor tried reassuring him that they’d be able to pick up socks in Paris, but Yuri was having none of it; it wasn’t until they’d carefully unpacked his bags to find them tucked away under his shorts that he finally relaxed, running a hand through his hair and apologising. In spite of the last minute panic, they managed to leave Hasetsu on time, Mari volunteering to drop them off at the airport. Makkachin said her goodbyes at the door, bearing with Victor’s cheek ruffling with the same good humour she bore most the world. A wag of her tail and a happy bark followed out after them, along with the smiles and waves from Hiroko and Toshiya to see them off.

Sixteen hours in the air wasn’t pleasant, but neither was it new. Victor had found himself argued into economy seats by Yuri, a trade-off in exchange for Victor ordering the _non-_ complimentary champagne in flight, which Yuri joined him in once it became clear they’d managed to be surrounded by two families traveling with small children who didn’t _like_ flying. Yuri managed to pass out first, Victor slumped against his shoulder and idly considering watching one of the in flight movies. The one with the yellow creatures looked vaguely entertaining.

(He woke up hours later, distracted by watching Yuri snooze on, oblivious, until their first meal was served. He never did end up watching the movie with all the yellow creatures.)

Aside from an encounter with one of the children peering over the seat in front of them and ducking away again with a startled squeal, and an errant pacifier that flew sideways and bounced off Yuri’s shoulder, the flight went better than they’d expected. They were still tired and lagging once they stepped off the plane in Charles de Gaulle, carry-on slung over their shoulders as they made a beeline for one of the restrooms and an open cafe. Picking up caffeine and hot sandwiches to cart along with them, they checked on passports, checked for updated time-zones on phones, and paused to allow Victor to take a selfie with Yuri in front of a sprawling mural on the wall.

Victor had been to France before as part of the Grand Prix series; Yuri hadn’t in either of his years. Maybe this next year. Who knew? As they ate and sipped at coffee too hot for drinking, enjoying the taste even as it threatened to burn their tongues, it’d seemed simple. They’d collect their luggage, summon an Uber or flag down one of the cabs, head for the apartment Victor had researched amoung hundreds, meet up with their host or his parents, depending on who was home, then crash. They could shower, nap, and head out later for dinner. Simple.

The world wasn’t done with them yet, however: Victor’s luggage was easily locatable, pulled up and set down in front of him with a triumphant grin and an arm slung around Yuri, hugging him to his side. “Shouldn’t be much longer!” turned into, “I don’t think everything’s been set out yet,” became, eventually, “We might want to talk with the airline…”

Three rounds of watching the bags dwindle down to an abandoned blue suitcase with more customs stickers than clear space and a paisley suitcase being nervously eyed by a young man tugging a hat down over his ears led to Yuri’s eventual acceptance of temporary, gloomy, but not hungry-angry defeat. Morose, he perked up with determination when they navigated the terminals to find the proper front desk, waiting in a short line to file for the lost baggage claim.

It was a matter of verifying his cell, then switching out for Victor’s (Victor had the better international minutes plan), lapsing into an ongoing debate on the worth of being a full on tourist right from the start as Victor reiterated that they’d find Yuri’s luggage, certainly, but in the meantime, did he want any of these lovely shirts?

Yuri took one glance at the store his fiance had gestured toward — Gucci — and announced it was time to go. Victor relented with a good natured half smile, falling into step and bringing up the Uber application. Two minutes of waiting after they’d found the vehicle pick-up lanes found them ensconced in a Renault Mégane IV in blue. Yuri blinked at the model name emblazoned on back of the car, lips quirked up into a smile in spite of his exhaustion and the mishap with his luggage. When Victor inquired, Yuri declined to explain, adjusting his glasses and flashing his coach and erstwhile lover an almost playful grin.

Victor spent half the drive over to the apartment they were going to be living out of for the next week and then some surreptitiously searching “megane” on the internet. He tried Google first, eschewing Yandex in favour of an engine more likely to pull up a result in their one fully shared language. (Victor was working on his Japanese; Yuri was working on his Russian. They were bound to meet somewhere in the middle sooner rather than later.)

“Megane,” he muttered, glancing up as the TVTropes page loaded. There was no way, he thought, this is what had made Yuri smile. Yuri, blinking at him from behind blue framed lenses, carefully turned his face away and looked out the window. If he were the type of person to whistle, Victor had a niggling suspicion he’d have been whistling. As it was, Yuri simply allowed himself to get caught up staring outside in spite of his exhaustion, small sounds of wonder and a scoffing sort of amusement, “Baguettes? Really?” leaving him trying to laugh under his breath.

Victor scrolled on. _Megane (Japanese, literally "glasses") is Anime Fanspeak for (preferably attractive) guys with glasses._

He gasped, turning his phone around to Yuri, eyes sparkling with delight. “ _Megane!_ ” Only to have Yuri whip his head around and snatch for his phone, their driver laughing and asking if they were a fan of the car.

“Yes, yes, very much!” Yuri managed while trying to shove Victor’s phone into his own pocket, double full when his phone already took up residence there. Victor had switched tactics from an outright grab to leaning in and pressing a kiss to Yuri’s cheek, disturbing his glasses, while his too deft, too clever fingers danced across Yuri’s stomach, sliding toward his coat pocket. His too hot coat pocket. Why in the world was he bundled up in the middle of summer?

“It’s a wonderfully smooth ride,” Victor noted, lips quirking up into a wry expression.

Yuri’s free hand clutched on around Victor’s wrist. “Perfect for families. Do you have kids?” He asked their driver, a sensible question considering the bright coloured plush toy sitting on the dash. Yuri turned his head to press a quick kiss to Victor’s lips, forestalling his advance on his phone reclamation plans. “I _love_ kids,” Yuri said, staring into Victor’s eyes. “Especially when they’re not mine.”

Their driver laughed as Victor pouted, the expression melting away before long as he tugged Yuri into a sideways hug, giving up on his phone for the time being. “Maybe we should recommend it to the Nishigori’s?”

“If they’re looking for an upgrade,” Yuri agreed, both of them smiling now.

“Are you two here on your honeymoon?”

Yuri spluttered; Victor hummed and tapped a finger against his lips, keeping Yuri at his side. “Can you have one of those before you get married?”

“ _No!_ ” came Yuri’s delayed response, accurate regardless. Victor pouted again, Yuri hurrying on to clarify. “This is just, it’s, we’re on vacation. A vacation. This really is a vacation. Victor, we’re on _vacation_.”

He had to laugh at the wonder and disbelief that seemed to flood through Yuri in that moment. “Yes, we are. Somehow. We should thank your coach for allowing us to take all that time off.”

“On top of the three weeks we just spent in Hasetsu?” Yuri shot Victor a flat look, lacing his fingers with Victor’s hand dangling over his shoulder.

“That was for training,” Victor said, not missing a beat. He gave a squeeze of their interlaced fingers, leaning in to brush his lips against Yuri’s temple. He lingered, breathing in; by and large, their driver didn’t appear to mind, as long as they kept things appropriate. He could admire the blush already pinking Yuri’s cheeks, but he knew his fiance was tired, and pushing too far was liable to irritate as much as flatter.

So he settled for a second press of his kiss against Yuri’s temple, turning his face forward and resting his head against Yuri’s as they drove on. “Your coach was also very gracious to give you good training time on your home ground.”

“Against the advice of _your_ coach, I should note.” Yuri tried to keep himself from smiling; it was a futile effort. They both remembered Yakov’s complaints, but Victor had largely ignored them. He’d managed his return, he was gearing up for another season, he had inspiration for new programs _and_ was, somehow, staying on top of the juggling act of competing and coaching his fiance at the same time.

He was some percent sure he was going to burn out spectacularly if they kept this up for too long, but Victor knew he was more and more ready to step to the side as a competitor and be a sideline support for Yuri. Who knew? They might move on to ice dancing together once Yuri’s singles career had reached its fulfillment. _Not yet_ , Victor thought to himself, before carefully shoving all thoughts of competing to the side. Unlike the last three weeks, being here in Paris, France, had only one purpose: full and shameless thievery of Japan’s Ace male figure skater away from the rest of the world.

(That Yuri felt much the same with regards to Victor he was aware of, and found it equal parts appealing and endearing. Besides, this was Yuri’s first _proper_ vacation. Which might account for the lost luggage, now that Victor was thinking about it. Every travel story needed a proper awkward problem, and at least this wasn’t his competitive gear.)

They tipped in cash when they reached their destination, both men digging out wallets and exchanging Euros with twin looks of amusement on their features: neither backed off, and their driver ended up accepting far more than anticipated, hurriedly shoving half the bills back at the both of them, shaking their head and smiling.

“ _Merci beaucoup_ , you’re very generous!” they called out, waving them on after they’d liberated Victor’s luggage from the boot. “ _Vous faites un joli couple_.”

Victor smiled and laughed, calling back his own _merci beaucoup_ as Yuri frowned in faint confusion, squinting suspiciously between Victor and the Mégane disappearing down the street. “What did they say?”

“That we’re cute,” Victor replied, almost too airy to be believed. He flashed Yuri a grin and reached for the handle of his rolling luggage, tugging it along the sidewalk to the front lobby of a ten story apartment complex. It was all impressive, but they were both tired enough that little more than a glance upward and a mumbled statement that might have been awe seemed appropriate to exchange. They met with their host in the lobby, Victor taking the lead as Yuri tried to politely yawn into his cupped hand.

“Long flights take all the energy,” their host said, sympathetic to their exhaustion. He smiled, handing over the key and going over the short list of his top recommendations in the area. Which stores, the restaurant where several of his good friends worked, the wine shop not far down the street. “You’re here through Bastille Day. The fireworks are fantastic right from the balcony, you won’t even have to wade through the crowds. Lucky timing!”

Something in Victor’s expression implied that luck had little to do with it. He laughed, shook hands, kissed cheeks, and before Yuri knew it, had ushered them both into the elevator, taking them up to the seventh floor.

Seven nights in Paris, staying on the seventh floor, in the seventh month of twenty-seventeen. Was seven even a lucky number? Yuri tried to pin down an answer as he leaned into Victor, stifling another yawn. When had he pulled down his travel mask? He couldn’t remember; it had to have been sometime on their drive. He plucked at it around his neck as Victor unlocked the door to their temporary home, pushing it open to reveal light. Sunlight streaming through windows as the afternoon began, highlighting light wood floors and metallic sided chairs. Yuri stumbled in after Victor, eyes going wide as he took in the space they were confronted with, far larger than what he’d expected. 

“How much are you paying for this place again?” Yuri asked, hand clutching his carry-on bag for dear life. Victor smiled, reaching for Yuri’s elbow and gently guiding him further inside. 

“As much as I should. Look, is that champagne? Oh, look at the tiny _éclairs_ and macarons!” Victor left his luggage to the side of the entryway, slipping out of his shoes to pad across the wood floor to the table left decorated with a vase of sprawling flowers, an iced bucket with a single bottle of champagne resting inside, two flutes nearby, and a plate of delightful looking pastries in miniature. 

Yuri stepped out of his own shoes, stumbling past Victor toward the doorway to his side. He peered into the adjacent room, locating the bed done up in white linens with a look akin to that of a man finding water at the end of a desert trek. He pulled his bag strap over his head, letting it drop to the ground as he took the last few steps forward to flop down, averting his face to the side at the last possible second.

“ _Bed._ ”

Victor trailed in after him, licking his fingers clean of cream. “Showers and then a nap?”

Yuri grunted from where he lay on the bed, lifting a hand and flicking his fingers. “Nap, then shower, then… more nap?”

Victor laughed, coming to sit down next to where Yuri lay flopped across the mattress. He reached out, carefully taking hold of Yuri’s glasses. “Sounds good to me. We’ve got nowhere to be unless we want to be there.”

Shifting his head enough to allow the other man to pull his glasse free, Yuri sighed, turning his face into the comforter. “Good.” Between his own efforts and Victor’s coaxing, he pulled himself better on to the bed, making a noise of assent when Victor mentioned placing his glasses on the beside table. Yuri patted the open space between himself and the sliding glass doors, stretching floor to ceiling. Victor pouted, moving to pull the curtains closed, cutting off the flood of daylight into the room as he did so.

“Tease,” he said, sighing after in melodramatic lamentation. Yuri grunted again, not bothering with a more verbose rejoinder. He was already fading fast. By the time Victor had stripped out of his outermost layer and checked that the AC was running at comfortable levels, Yuri was already out. Victor crawled onto the bed, curling up facing Yuri and the mess of his bangs, the sweet, slack parting of his lips. From Victor’s estimate, it was likely Yuri was going to start drooling soon.

For whatever reason the thought flooded him with an acute sort of warm fondness, reaching out and curling his fingers around Yuri’s lax hand. Victor felt himself drifting off in spite of the coffee and sugar in his system, joining Yuri in an afternoon nap in the city of lovers.

Or something like that.

* * *

Victor woke first, yawning and stretching out as he found himself nestled up against Yuri’s chest, his feet close to the end of the bed. Yuri had one arm flung over Victor’s shoulders, hugging his head close, a leg tossed over Victor’s hip. Loathe as he was to move, his bladder was making insistent enough demands that Victor sighed, murmuring apologies as he carefully extracted himself from Yuri’s sleeping embrace. He was smiling the whole while.

It was gratifying, learning he wasn’t the only clingy sleeper between them. Equally gratifying, for much less easily identifiable reasons, was his pleased amusement at the line of drool at the corner of Yuri’s lips. Not much, but definitely there.

Victor reached out, gently wiping it away best as he could. Yuri frowned, nuzzling in against Victor’s hand, muttering something under his breath that Victor failed to make out. It didn’t much matter. He’d see about waking Yuri after he visited the bathroom.

Sliding off the bed, he patted Yuri’s foot before heading off to explore the bathroom. Small teal-blue tiles made for a soft, almost sea-coloured backdrop for the white porcelain of the sink and toilet; Victor admired the shower to his right as he made use of the toilet, noting the two large benches inside, the moveable showerheads, and a series of interesting little lights hanging down from the ceiling on fiberoptic strings. From the look of things, the shower could function as a sauna of sorts in addition to a varied use showering facility, something he and Yuri might enjoy using over the course of the next week.

He washed his hands, heading back to the bedroom and peering in at the still sleeping form of his lover. Yuri had rolled over on his stomach, one arm tossed out over the place Victor had been, fingers curled gently into the cover. The sight left an ache in Victor’s chest, his smile small and warm. It seemed impossible to have really _met_ Yuri, let alone after years of competing in the same circles, noting this and that, but never really _seeing_ him as he saw him now. This precious, strong, amazing, compelling person who faced down anxieties Victor could only barely comprehend and _still_ kept going, still got up and tried again even when he was more heavily disappointed in himself than anyone else in the world.

Yuri was one of the strongest people Victor had ever met. Victor curled his right hand into a loose fist, bringing it up to his lips; pressing a kiss over the band of gold around his ring finger. One of the strongest, one of the most surprising. The most precious person in Victor’s world.

Also the sleepiest, he thought, walking over and opening the curtains with a certain congenial flair he knew would earn a grumpy response. Most the afternoon had passed, leaving the last dregs of a truly spectacular sunset staining across the sky laid out over the parkway and buildings in view from the windows. The Eiffel Tower stood in the near distance, impressively large; strange to think that at one time it had been little more than a temporary construct, now tied in as emblematic for an entire nation.

“Yuri, come look at the sunset! We should shower and head down to find something for dinner before making it an early night.” He stood to the side, features shadowed by the lighting. He really needed to figure out where the switches were inside the apartment. Was that them, over by the arch leading into the bedroom?

“How are you so… awake?” Yuri said as he rolled over, arms raised overhead, toes pointing in a stretch that had him arching up off the bed. He sat up, running a hand through his hair to no avail.

“Practice,” Victor said, flashing Yuri a bright smile mostly lost in the dimness. Yuri groaned and hung his legs off the bed, pushing up to stand. Victor moved to catch him up in his arms, pressing a kiss to his cheek before turning him to face the sliding glass doors. “Besides, a sunset like this is better when watched with you.”

Yuri seemed like he might have said something. Instead, he relaxed, squinting out the windows and leaning into Victor’s embrace. “It is,” he agreed, quietly thoughtful. A moment after, he leaned his head back against Victor’s cheek, hand coming up to rest over Victor’s folded arms. “We’re really here, aren’t we?”

“We’re really in Paris.”

“Not even to compete.”

“Not even to compete,” Victor said, chuckling softly. He caught Yuri’s lips turn up into a small smile. They stood there like that, staring out at the colours that painted over the clouds covering the skies.

Eventually Yuri stirred, reluctantly pulling away from Victor’s embrace. “Bathroom,” he explained apologetically, and Victor nodded. 

“We should probably shower and head down to see what we want to do for dinner.”

Yuri nodded, squinting and shuffling for the side table to pick up his glasses. “Right, right. Want to go first? I need to pee, but then I wanted to call and see if they’ve located my luggage yet.”

“Sure! Let me pull my suitcase in here… you have the one outfit packed into your carry-on, right? Some of what I have will work for you, too, for sleeping and casual dining at least.”

Yuri groaned, closing the bathroom door behind himself, leaving Victor to laugh as he went to fetch his rolling luggage.

* * *

The shower proved to be a fascinating education in knobs, handles, showerheads, and accidentally getting sprayed from three different directions at once. Victor had eventually been able to mimic the kind of pre-bathing rinse he’d grown accustomed to in Japan, switching over to the rainfall showerhead set in the ceiling at the same time that he finally located a switch to turn on the tiny lights dangling down overhead. It was a charming display, so many pinpoints of light pleasing to the eye, almost celestial in nature.

He couldn’t wait to show Yuri. 

He was still drying his hair with careful pats of the towel when he emerged, rejuvenated and smelling faintly of eucalyptus. He had one of the two robes on, tied loose at the waist, finding Yuri back in the bedroom again, a small notepad balanced on his knee.

“They found it,” he said, looking up with a frown. Victor greeted the news with a pleased clap of his hands, lifting his eyebrows at Yuri’s clear lack of enthusiasm.

“That’s good news! Yet you don’t seem happy.”

“It’s not that,” Yuri said, setting the pad of paper to the side with a pen. He smiled then, almost rueful, watching Victor join him where he sat on the mattress. “It’s just they’re having to fly it in from where it ended up. Apparently when we were heading out, they were loading luggage for a Shanghai flight. Somehow mine ended up loaded on _that_ flight — they’ll be flying it out to Paris once they’ve flown it back to Fukuoka.” Yuri leaned in, breathing in deep next to Victor’s shoulder. “New rinse?”

“Something they had in a sample basket in the bathroom,” he said. He paused, considering what Yuri had told him. On a realistic side of things, it meant probably two days without Yuri’s luggage, depending on how efficient the timing on flights were, and if they managed to lose the luggage in transit again. On the other hand… “So you’re telling me they managed to Shanghai your luggage.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty…” Yuri trailed off, giving Victor a suspicious look. He snorted, bumping his shoulder against Victor’s. “You better not laugh.”

Victor, who was biting down on his tongue, tried to look innocent. Yuri tried to glare, ending up with a smile of defeated amusement curling his lips up at the corner. The nap had done wonders for his mood overall, though he was going to be hungry again soon. “Okay, it _might_ be almost funny that they managed to Shanghai my luggage.”

Victor stopped trying to hold back then, laughing and flopping back down on the bed. “I’m glad the only one they managed to run off with was your luggage. How would I have a romantic vacation in Paris all by myself?”

Red faced at the blunt statement of intent, Yuri scoffed, swallowing as he looked away. He patted at Victor’s knee. “I’m sure we could have swung a few face-time conversations.”

“ _Yuuuuri_ , it wouldn’t have been the same!” Victor rolled onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow and pouting. “I want you _here_ ,” he said, reaching out to tug on his arm, coaxing him closer, “Not thousands of miles away. Not when we don’t have to be.”

“Like at Nationals?”

Victor pouted further, squirming closer to Yuri since Yuri hadn’t obliged him by falling back to where it was easier for Victor to curl around him. “Like at Nationals. I still tried watching, but those _streams_ …”

Yuri finally took pity on the ridiculous look of his pouting lover slash coach, scooting back enough that he could lean down and press a kiss to his damp hair. “That’s what fans deal with,” was all he said, lips quirked up into something of a smirk. After years of dealing with streams trying to catch some of Victor’s skating in live time, it was perversely gratifying to have his longtime hero doing the same to watch _him_ skate. Ignoring that it was necessary on another level, or that Victor wanted to support Yuri, or that watching uploads of programs on YouTube later had its own series of problems not always easy to circumvent.

Truly, their fans were dedicated. Even if Yuri was still dubious about what number of fans he really had. After all, there were far better skaters, and there would be far more promising skaters out of Japan once Minami’s generation hit their full stride. Minami wasn’t far off now. 

Victor pushed himself up to capture Yuri’s lips with his own, giving him a sweet, brief kiss. “Then as your biggest personal fan, on and off the ice, even if I have to wheedle with your parents or Makkachin for the title, let me say that it was worth it. Now go get clean, Mr. Katsuki.” Victor pulled his head back, looking up at Yuri through his lashes. “We have a dinner date to keep.”

Feeling himself blushing all over again, Yuri smiled, standing up with a dip of his head toward Victor and a small wave of his hand, dismissing the statement. “No fighting Makkachin, or my parents,” he said, mock serious. “I care about all of you too much to be able to handle that.”

Collecting his spare change of clothing from his carry-on, Yuri headed for the bathroom. He’d have to ask about using some of Victor’s toothpaste tonight. He had a toothbrush, but his toothpaste had been packed into his luggage, not his carry-on. A problem for later that evening, he supposed.

* * *

Yuri stepped out of the shower feeling refreshed, much more awake and willing to take on the world than he had been after landing earlier that day. He toweled off, deciding against dressing quite yet when he realised there was another robe hanging in the bathroom, ready for use. They could look up restaurant reviews while Yuri finished drying himself off.

Yet as he walked back out of the bathroom across the wood floor, enjoying the feel of the cool wood underfoot, shivering lightly in the air conditioned breeze passing through the hall, he paused. Victor was still in his robe, the collar slipping low down his back, close to exposing one shoulder along with the length of his neck. His hair towel was draped over the chair by the door. Outside, lit up in hundreds of brilliant, orange-yellow bulbs, the Eiffel Tower was outlined against the night. Yuri didn’t know why Victor had left the light off in the bedroom. Perhaps it was to indulge in the soft light diffused over the streets and the park outside; lending an almost warm glow to the bed, haloing Victor himself. Perhaps Victor was simply distracted, either by his own thoughts (and oh, did that stir a nervousness in Yuri’s stomach, unaccountable and unpreventable) or some word he’d gotten. Maybe even the search for an acceptable restaurant, something to feed the hunger that Yuri was beginning to feel all the more acutely. Yet Victor’s phone was face down on the mattress; his hands rested to either side of his legs, supporting his weight as he leaned back, staring outside.

He was beautiful. Victor was always beautiful. Yuri knew this, found himself constantly surprised by this, found himself constantly enamoured with that unfair, wonderful reality. Victor was beautiful, and inconceivably, Victor was also his. The most beautiful man in the world, the most talented skater, a living legend, the hero to his home nation, and he was sitting here with a borrowed robe slowly sliding off his shoulders as he stared out into the soft-lit dark of a Parisian night. Here, alone, with Yuri. Here, voluntarily and willingly, eagerly, with Yuri.

Yuri knew love by now, though he didn’t have all the words to describe its nuances. Just a flood of warmth that drowned his heart in the most pleasant way imaginable; paired with a different warmth that flooded through him for appreciably different reasons. His eyes were drawn to the visible expanse of Victor’s neck, the top of his shoulder, that glimpse of his upper back.

He was his, and Yuri belonged to him in turn. Stepping closer to the bed, Yuri reveled in that knowledge, in the truth behind his complicated, tangled wantings. He didn’t come around the edge of the bed, to where Victor sat. He came close, then slid onto his knees, moving behind Victor. Wrapping his arms so boldly around his shoulders that he fairly thought his heart was going to run away from him, beating as hard as it was. Feeling his flush creep down his neck as Victor turned his face toward him, lips parting in surprise, leaning back into Yuri’s arms.

“Hey,” he said, smiling.

“Hey,” Yuri said, leaning in and kissing him without preamble. A slow, savouring kiss, his own faint eucalyptus scent mingling with what still clung to Victor. He felt his lover respond, lips parting further, soft and warm and inviting against Yuri’s mouth. Victor’s hands came up to rest over Yuri’s crossed arms; Victor gave his weight over to Yuri’s support, kissing back, equally unhurried. Patient, perhaps, or curious. Victor could be all kinds of things, any heady mixture of traits and confusing identities.

His. Yuri turned that concept over in his head, breaking off their kisses so he could shift, stretching out his legs to settle on either side of Victor’s thighs. He nestled closer, tucking himself up against Victor’s back. Seeing a glimpse of the two of them pressed close in the reflection off the glass of the window, backlit by the light from the living area, softly lit from the light coming up from the street.

It was surprisingly intoxicating, watching himself lower his head to press a kiss to the bare skin at the of Victor’s neck. Victor shivered, head tipping away from Yuri, giving him better access. “You’re awfully mouthy,” he said, voice low, considering.

“You’re awfully tempting,” Yuri said in return, swallowing the embarrassment that trailed in after his own blunt statement. It wasn’t a lie, and never had been. Yuri had half formed fantasies of encounters with Victor that were meant to stay just like that: fantastic, products of an overworked body and the sanctity of release in a bothersome, but effective, stretch for orgasm. He hadn’t allowed himself to shift those thoughts when Victor appeared in his life; if anything, he’d held them further away, finding them inappropriate for the longest time.

Little by little, he stopped believing in Victor, the Figure Skating Legend; Victor, the Ideal on a Pedestal; Victor, the Russian Hero. Little by little he’d become Victor, the touchable; Victor, the sometimes idiot; Victor, who tried hard and failed and kept trying anyway, like anyone did when fighting for something or someone they loved. Victor, who met Yuri where he was at, no matter how they both fumbled along the way.

Was there anything more attractive than that? More attractive than the way Victor watched him, never looking away? More attractive than the countless ways Victor showed he cared, in his touches, his words so much less smooth than Yuri would have imagined them being in teenaged fantasies. So much more heartfelt than Yuri had ever imagined.

This was the man he loved, body and soul, turning his head to the side and catching his breath as Yuri leaned in to kiss a slow, thoughtful trail from his neck down to his shoulder. A man who Yuri wanted to memorise, every centimetre of him, every sound, every scent, every taste. Yuri suckled lightly at a spot halfway between Victor’s neck and his shoulder, feeling the shudder pass through Victor as he responded. Yuri smiled against Victor’s skin, bringing his hands up, over Victor’s shoulders. Hooking his fingers into the soft fabric of the plush robe, and gently, firmly tugging it down.

“Dinner?” Victor asked, making it a breathless question, eyes open and slanted toward Yuri. Not a demand, but an inquiry.

“Later?” Yuri found himself asking in turn, feeling Victor lean back into him, feeling him nod his head.

“ _Yes_ ,” he said, lips curled up in a smile. Victor’s shoulders dipped further, and Yuri pulled the robe down and off them, kissing a trail to Victor’s shoulder as he went.

There was no hurry behind Yuri’s actions, his slow, deliberate undressing of Victor’s arms and chest almost reverential, peppered with kisses, caresses, careful grazing of his teeth over sensitive skin. He freed Victor’s right arm from the robe’s sleeve, finding Victor’s hand and guiding it upward, to his trapezius. All to bring his hand in range for the same soft, deliberate kisses, lingering over the gold band on his ring finger.

 _Mine._ What a wonderful, wondrous thought.

By whim more than deliberate fancy, Yuri slid his tongue under the tip of Victor’s ring finger, hearing Victor’s startled intake of air. He almost stopped, but Victor didn’t pull away; if anything, he leaned more deliberately back into Yuri, swallowing hard enough for Yuri to hear. 

“ _Yuri_.”

His name was encouragement, enough to settle nerves so willing to be jangled, and Yuri responded by daring more instead of pulling away. He took Victor’s finger into his mouth, sucking, tongue pressed firm up underneath it. It was an interesting sensation, the ring hard and metallic in an inoffensive way against the tip of his tongue. Far more interesting was Victor’s response; the soft moan in the back of his throat, the way he bit down on his lower lip, as if unsure how else to respond. His other hand reached for the comforter, fingers curling into the fabric, holding on and anchoring himself where he sat.

Yuri’s eyes flicked up to their hazy reflection in the glass window. _Beautiful_ , he thought again, and then he stopped trying to think overmuch about anything more than the landscape Victor presented in his arms. He pulled his head back, allowing Victor’s finger to almost slide free, then drew it into the warmth of his mouth again, appreciating the soft sounds Victor made in response. Skating his other hand over Victor’s side, under his arm, and around, to press against the warm expanse of his abdomen; slowly moving upward, sketching geometric patterns and concentric circles as his fingers quested higher, higher.

He moved on to take Victor’s middle finger into his mouth, sucking with more confidence, drawing his finger in and swirling his tongue over it as he pulled his head back, allowing Victor’s finger to slip back out. When his questing fingers brushed over the bud of Victor’s erect nipple, Yuri ran the pad of his thumb over it, teasing at sensitive flesh and wondering at the possible reaction.

The involuntary shudder that jerked through Victor paired with a bitten off moan was answer enough. Yuri smiled, albeit briefly, switching to Victor’s index finger as he gently pinched, waiting for Victor’s response in reaction to such a liberty taken. Victor gasped, turning his face toward Yuri, lips parted, eyes deep pools of black and darkened blue. “Please,” he said, and Yuri hesitated; “More,” he agreed, huffing out something like amusement, biting down on his lip again as Yuri obliged, repeating the motion. Victor threw his head back, resting against Yuri’s shoulder, a sound of pleasure escaping his throat as Yuri took two fingers in his mouth at once.

Absurd, probably, but the arousal Yuri felt building at the willing, reactiveness of Victor made him confident in the attempt, at least, to explore his lover’s body. He brought his right hand back into play, no longer needing to hold Victor’s right hand up; Victor was willing enough to keep his hand where it was. Instead, Yuri let his hand travel the planes of Victor’s chest, over his ribs, his stomach, his lower abdomen, flirting briefly with the dip of his belly button before it came to the pool of fabric around Victor’s hips. Fumbling, Yuri sought out the tie of the robe, sucking on Victor’s fingers, gently tweaking Victor’s nipple as he shifted forward, seeking a degree of friction. The robe tie succumbed to Yuri’s nimble motions, pulled back through and left draped in Victor’s lap until Yuri slipped his hand beneath those folds, feeling for warm skin, finding Victor half erect. That, too, was gratifying, as was the twitch of his dick when Yuri’s hand stroked down over it, encouraging before he dipped lower, fondling his scrotum.

Everything about Victor was beautiful. Even and especially the way his dick tended to cant just a degree or so to the left when fully erect; the slight curve that Yuri found inexplicably fascinating, different from his own. He helped pull down his foreskin, now taking three fingers in his mouth. A messier prospect, but neither he nor Victor were in a state of mind to care.

It was Victor rocking his hips forward to press into Yuri’s hand that started him stroking; deliberate but careful, considering the lack of lubrication. _That_ was something Yuri hadn’t thought about, and more fool he; he had to pull his mouth away from Victor’s fingers, swallowing, considering his options. Victor’s small sigh of disappointment and enjoyment were mingled as he pushed into Yuri’s hand, almost fully erect now, his wet fingers curling against the meat of his shoulder.

Yuri murmured an apology as he pulled his hand up, stroking up Victor’s front in a reversal of the path he’d traveled earlier. He brought his hand to his mouth, licking it once, then again. Enough saliva to start things off, finding a better kind of friction.

When his hand dropped back down to Victor’s erection, taking him in hand, Victor groaned, turning his face toward Yuri and kissing his cheek. Yuri shifted back, changing their angles, better able to return Victor’s kiss like this, thumb back to brushing over his sensitive nipple. No more pulling or tweaking; it was too much to think about when there were tongues and teeth and lips and a hand pulling up and gliding down, a slow and steady rhythm that he built in speed.

Everything about Victor _felt_ amazing, too. The warm, soft skin of his dick over the firm hardness of his erection; the weight of him in his arms, against Yuri’s chest; the press of his lips against Yuri’s, heated and demanding and giving all at once. Yuri swallowed the small sounds that Victor didn’t try to disguise, feeling his own arousal in response to the man in his arms, the man he was pleasuring by hand and mouth and everything. Was it really enough?

He didn’t know, didn’t care as Victor reached for him, burying one hand in the hair at the back of Yuri’s head as he kissed him harder, longer than before. He pushed up into Yuri’s grip, Victor’s free hand finding Yuri’s leg and caressing down it, finding the opening of his robe and shoving it up and out of the way. Skin contact, Yuri realised; Victor was seeking out skin contact, even as Yuri pumped faster, breaking off their kisses to mumble, apologetic: “Forgot the lube.”

Victor laughed, more breathless than anything else, and nodded. “I noticed.” But all said with a grin and an unfeigned moan as he threw his head back again, burying his face against Yuri’s neck. “It’s fine,” he said, close to panting. “Not gonna last that long,” in his own faint apology. Not embarrassed, never all that embarrassed with himself, but a little disappointed. He’d have to make sure Yuri felt more than this when it was his turn, and so he brought his hand back around, licking it in turn, then reaching down to slide down on top of Yuri’s hand. Enough room for them both, but he pulled away again, leaving behind the slick of his saliva. Yuri slide back up and over it, closed his hand over the head of Victor’s dick, spreading the beaded precome there as he pushed back down, forming a tighter right with his fingers.

Victor held onto Yuri, raked his fingers up the inside of Yuri’s leg and thrust up into Yuri’s hand as he brought it down. He caught a glimpse of their tangled forms in the window, a warm, intimate portrait, Victor panting and mostly naked in Yuri’s lap, framed and caught between his legs. His own legs dangling off the bed, feet braced against the floor, leaning back into Yuri, straining up and into his hand.

He moaned when Yuri kissed his neck, nipped at his trapezius, bit down on his lower lip as Yuri suckled on skin and keeps up his maddening pace. Yuri’s left arm was spread across Victor’s chest, keeping him from slipping. Keeping him close, Yuri’s chest against Victor’s back, warm skin touching warm skin, cool air slipping into the open spaces between them.

Victor could feel himself straining toward release, shuddering as he came so, _so close_ , only to back off from the edge, taunt in Yuri’s embrace. He closed his eyes, murmured Yuri’s name as a plea, as an homage, and Yuri shifted forward, biting down into the flesh of Victor’s shoulder as his hand pumped up and down all the fast, twisting just over Victor’s head, then pressing back down to the base of his shaft. The combination, the surprise of mild pain and the intensity of pleasure over the head of his shaft, the build of friction, pushed him over the edge. Victor stiffened in Yuri’s arms, a wordless noise of pleasure catching in the back of his throat as he shuddered through his orgasm, jerking once, twice, toes curling and fingers gripping as he came, burying his face in the side of Yuri’s neck.

Yuri held him through all of it, his own heart hammering, feeling giddy and aroused and happy all at once. Peppering Victor’s face with kisses and soothing words, reassurances that he might have wanted to hear for himself. _You did great_ , and, _you’re beautiful_ , and, _I love you._ Victor hear them all, taking note and opening his eyes, peppering kisses back over Yuri’s face as he leans in, shivering in temporary overstimulation when Yuri draws his hand up and over his head. Collecting some of his come, though not all.

“I love you too,” Victor said, letting go, collapsing back against Yuri near bonelessly. “I need to clean up again… you’re a very surprising person, did you know that?” He tipped his head to the side, arching an eyebrow, smiling through the lassitude following orgasm at the man he loved.

Suddenly bashful, Yuri ducked his chin, eyes focusing on Victor’s shoulder, not his face. “I seem to remember you saying something like that a time or two,” he said at last, using his clean hand to reach for the towel Victor had used to dry his hair. He wiped off his other hand, setting to carefully cleaning up Victor’s abdomen, faintly surprised at how high his come had gone. “I didn’t mean to make a mess.”

“Yuri,” Victor said, chuckling, shifting closer so he could give him a proper kiss on the lips. “I’m pretty sure I was right there helping make the bigger part of this particular mess. I do have a question, though.” He lowered his lashes, regarding Yuri from beneath them.

Yuri swallowed, feeling heat pool in his cheeks and markedly lower at the same time. “Yes?”

Victor caught Yuri’s hands with his own, stilling the movement of the towel on his stomach. “If I’m _very_ good about eating my dinner, can I get a double helping of dessert?”

Initially perplexed, Yuri opened his mouth, brow furrowing, to say of course. Why would he stop Victor from having dessert?

“Yuri,” Victor said instead, interrupting with a happily amused curve to his lips. He stroked his fingers over the top of Yuri’s hand, watching Yuri’s expression from one eye. “The dessert I want is you.”

Yuri paused, mouth opening, then closing again. “Oh.” He swallowed, his arousal and his embarrassment mingling. “ _Oh_.”

“Oh,” Victor said, nodding, pressing another gentle kiss to Yuri’s jaw. “What do you think?”

“I think…” Yuri swallowed, hand twitching underneath Victor’s. He turned his face, looking at his lover, still sprawled here in his arms, as beautiful as ever. _The dessert I want is you_. “I think we might be able to arrange that.”


	2. clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor doesn't expect to find the sight of Yuri sleep tousled and wearing one of his shirts to be enticing. And then he does.

The apartment had to be south facing, or so Victor reasoned as he slit his eyes open, catching sight of the lightening grey skies beyond the balcony over Yuri’s shoulder. He closed his eyes again, breathing out in a happy sigh, pressing his face against the material covering Yuri’s chest. Victor might have preferred they both sleep naked, but this was nice, too, soft and warm and luxuriant. He breathed in, inhaling the scent of the sheets, Yuri, their bodywash, his own laundry soap. Yuri slept on, oblivious, arm draped over Victor’s chest, pillow shoved up under his head. He looked peaceful, lines of stress and worry as absent as the crinkle to his eyes when he laughed.

He was beautiful. Victor lay there, near to gone crosseyed looking Yuri in the face. He pulled his head back, bringing a hand up to brush Yuri’s bangs off his forehead. His hair had been growing all this time, shaggy enough that it was probably time for a trim. Victor loved it like this. Much longer and he might be able to braid it. French braids, he thought to himself, smiling with a soft fondness stealing over his expression, tucking Yuri’s bangs behind the shell of his ear.

They didn’t stay more than a moment, untamable and fractious as always. He snorted, louder than he meant to, though Yuri slept on undisturbed. The only early riser without a schedule to maintain here was Victor, and his he could partly blame on recent partial bouts with insomnia.

Stretching his neck forward, he pressed a kiss to Yuri’s nose, grinning when Yuri made a grumbling noise of protest and tried to bury his face in the crook of his arm.

Victor extracted himself from his lover’s embrace, heading for the restroom to take care of business and wash his face. A full shower would be nice, but he wanted to wait until Yuri was up. Right now getting out and finding something for their breakfast sounded more interesting, and more pressing. The little goodies their host had left for them were carefully packed away, or at least what hadn’t already been eaten was tucked back into the fridge. The champagne had survived the night, waiting for a different opportunity. One that would come before their week was up. Victor was optimistic about their chances.

He dressed in comfortable layers, pocketing his wallet and phone and sending Yuri a text as he made for the door. He took the elevator down, considering plans for the day. He and Yuri hadn’t ended up deciding on much before they fell asleep for the night; he had a vague idea of them visiting the Eiffel Tower proper, of maybe heading over toward Notre Dame. He’d visited the cathedral once before, in brief. All that would depend on Yuri’s feeling once he was up and moving. Sight-seeing was more Victor’s purview.

He slipped into the flow of the early morning crowd, cyclists and walkers as much a part of the cityscape as the automobiles that drove past. There was a bakery close to their building, lit up and welcoming even as the sun barely crested the horizon. An intricate Eiffel Tower of baked bread stood proud in one window display, amazing Victor into an impromptu selfie, his pleased surprise evident on his face. He didn’t post it, considering the chances of fans finding them in this city, pocketing his phone as he walked on. It was better publicity, really. Positive public relations, but he could discuss that with Yuri once he was awake. Until then, Victor could be discreet, walking the streets and window shopping with a faint smile curling his lips up into a grin every so often.

He crossed the street, heading toward the base of the Eiffel Tower, greeting those he passed in French. He lapsed into conversation with one older woman out walking her dog, a miniature poodle mix that danced around their legs with an impatient hop, yipping occasionally. They talked about their respective dogs, Victor pulling his phone out to share a picture of Makkachin, laughing at a recounted tale concerning a neighbor’s child’s torn up homework last year.

They parted ways, Victor with new knowledge about open air showings of foreign and domestic films that would be starting up on the lawns of the _Parc de la Villette_ come the following evening; cinema and shorts themed after food. He felt like Yuri might appreciate that, especially if they picnicked there first, as the older woman had suggested. 

Inspiration did come from unlikely places.

He walked on, taking note of a small grocer he could stop by to pick up fresh juice. Another small cafe caught his eye and nose, locals already hanging around tables and reading papers, reading phones, talking in low voices with friends and lovers alike.

He loved people, loved that sense of the morning and potential spread before them. Victor kept walking, winding his way to the roadways passing underneath the tower’s impressive feet. He stopped at the corner, tipping his head back to look up, up, and further up, smiling in spite of himself at the sheer size of the wrought iron construct.

The bread version was pretty accurate, he concluded, taking out his phone to snap a shot of the tower in the early morning light. Sun danced across the clearing blue skies, promising for a warm day. A nice one, Victor dared to hope, starting toward the tower. He kept to himself, smiling and greeting people as he was greeted, but inward focused compared to earlier. There was a lovely crepe stand he passed; he kept it in mind, wondering if he could convince Yuri it was worth the walk.

He felt like he could. Even when he checked the time, standing on the sidewalk underneath the Eiffel Tower proper, realising he needed to head back to catch Yuri before he was up and moving around. 

Victor watched the sky as much as the street as he turned back, appreciating the subtle changes in light as the day finished dawning. His phone buzzed with a notification, screen lighting up to flash a message from Yuri when Victor looked.

_I’m awake. Where are you?_

Victor smiled, pausing outside the grocery he’d noted earlier. _A few blocks away. Thinking of picking up eggs for breakfast. Maybe toast? Definitely fresh pressed juice._

He waited for the reply, started and stopped several times before Yuri sent his final response. _Any flaky pastries?_

With an amused smile, Victor shook his head. An indulgence that Yuri could afford, as long as he didn’t fully slack off while they were here. Wasn’t that absurd, on different levels? Even on vacation he was considering what kind of off ice training they could maintain. Jogging, certainly. Several other no equipment exercises, stretching routines, _dancing_?

He stepped into the grocery, browsing idly as he considered looking up places to dance. Practice if he squinted, but more an excuse to take Yuri out dancing without the trappings of their social obligations at the banquets. For all Yuri had managed to turn one event on its ear, promptly forgetting he’d done any such thing, it was far from the normal state of affairs. Getting to go out dancing for the sake of dancing sounded appealing all on its own, especially so for dancing with his fiance.

He found a carton of eggs for purchasing, picking out a bundle of parsley before a stray thought struck and had him digging out his phone again. A few short searches later and he set the parsley back down, picking up butter, a small container of cream, and chives instead. For bread he stepped inside the bakery with the clever Eiffel Tower, reveling in the scent of so much fresh baked goods. Even waiting in the chatty line when he wanted to be back in the flat with Yuri felt acceptable, Victor sending Yuri heart mouthed kaomoji and photos of the bakery display to pass the time. One came back near immediately, drawn over with large, red circles, noted in shorthand, _Please?_

Victor was as quick to reply. _As you wish! ( ˊ♡ ˋ ू )✧_

He was close to bouncing his foot in impractical, unwarranted impatience by the time he made it to the front of the line, flashing a smile and greeting the couple working the counter in French. His order went quickly, a still warm baguette under his arm, almond croissants and a chocolate croissant tucked away into a little brown bag.

Victor balanced his goods as he nudged his way through the lobby door, using the back of his hand to call for the lift. The low level anticipation of seeing him again had Victor smiling; he wanted to sweep Yuri up in his arms. He wanted to make him breakfast in bed, to run his hands through the mess of his bed-head. He wanted to curl around him and laze through the morning before his own nature meant he wanted to get out and moving, preferably with Yuri at his side.

“Yuri!” he called out as he stepped through the door, balancing the eggs and cream as he stepped out of his shoes, leaving them in the entry. There was no sign of Yuri in the main room; Victor stepped through to the kitchen, seeing the kettle on and the range working, but no sign of his errant lover. He set down his groceries, packing the eggs away into the refrigerator alongside the cream. After a moment’s thought, he set the chives into the vegetable drawer. “Did you go back to bed? I brought breakfast!”

Pulling down glasses to set next to the container of orange juice and the bag with its croissants, Victor stepped back into the main room just as Yuri wandered out of the bedroom, going still at the sight of him. It wasn’t just that he looked delightfully tousled, hair a few degrees more messy than it was in its normal state of affairs. It wasn’t that his glasses were on, poorly holding his bangs away from his eyes. As Yuri stifled a yawn, waving the fingers of the hand he didn’t use to cover his mouth, Victor swallowed against the sudden curl of arousal through his core. “G’morning. I started water for tea.”

There was something divine in the easy stance Yuri took, his boxers framing well muscled, strong legs, Victor’s borrowed shirt draping over his chest in easy folds of soft fabric. The v-neck that clung to Victor’s frame dipped lower on Yuri, showing more of the tops of his shoulders, more of the skin below his collarbone than it did on Victor. His eyes were drawn to that point, swallowing against a suddenly dry mouth. 

Yuri’s hand dropped away from his mouth, brow furrowing slightly as Victor failed to form a verbal response. “Victor?” he asked, taking a step closer. Yuri’s eyes scanned Victor’s face, expression shifting from concern to a surprised sort of understanding. “I look ridiculous.”

“You look enchanting,” Victor said in turn, bridging the distance between them to tug Yuri into an open mouthed kiss. He stroked one hand down over the material of Yuri’s borrowed shirt, following the contours of his back down over the curve of his ass. Pulling his head back, he licked his lips, squeezing Yuri’s rear. “Delectable.”

Yuri breathed in, lips curling into something shy and coy and almost teasing, as if he couldn’t decide which response was his most genuine in the moment. “I look like a mess,” he protested, voice hiking higher when Victor gave another squeeze of his rear.

“A hot mess,” Victor murmured by his ear, drawing Yuri up against him and kissing a line down his neck. Yuri laughed, a sound that Victor felt as Yuri wrapped his arms around Victor, nuzzling against his neck in turn.

“It’s not like you don’t see me every morning.”

“Mm,” Victor hummed, pressing a kiss to where his shirt began, nudging it a little further down Yuri’s shoulder with his nose. “I like the way you look in my shirt.”

Yuri started to laugh at that, turning it into a startled intake of air as Victor suckled at a sensitive spot closer to the nape of his neck. “ _Oh_ ,” he said, fingers curling into the material of Victor’s overshirt. “Is that all?”

Victor lipped at Yuri’s neck, pulling his head back while he tugged Yuri flush up against him, grinding lightly against him. Suggestive and deliberate as his other hand slipped down so that he could properly cup Yuri’s ass. He regarded Yuri through lowered lashes, voice deepened, thicker with the sudden surge of his arousal. Was it possessive, on some level? Probably, he reasoned. It was the sight of Yuri, tousled and in Victor’s shirt, in _Victor’s_ clothing, that had set him off after all. “I _really_ like how you look in my shirt.” Another roll of his hips, Yuri’s eyes widening a fraction as he swallowed, dark eyes seeming even darker for a moment, staring into Victor’s eyes in turn.

Yuri licked his lips, Victor lowering his head to capture Yuri’s mouth with his own. Yuri brought his hands up, raking his fingertips through Victor’s hair as he deepened the kiss, stalled on words that never seemed to work as he wanted them to anyway. Actions were easier; finding a thrill in his inexplicable ability to rile Victor in this way, simply by existing. There was no logic behind any of it, just the pleasure, the joy, and the heat between them. Yuri felt himself responding, suddenly more awake than he had been stumbling around the bedroom minutes before. He ground himself against Victor, partly for sensation, partly for a response. Victor’s small moan into Yuri’s mouth was electric, Yuri away just enough to rest his forehead against Victor’s, eyes intense.

“I think,” he started, his own voice deeper, pupils blown and dark with the surprise of his own response to Victor’s ardour, “You should show me how much you like it on me, Victor. In the bedroom.” Yuri stepped back, Victor moving with him, allowing Yuri to slide out from under his hands. Not that he was allowed to stop moving. Yuri reached out to catch at the fabric of Victor’s overshirt, tugging him along, eyes locked on Victor’s face. The flush that had stolen across his cheeks stained down his neck, even colouring the pale expanse of skin visible on his shoulders and chest; Victor swallowed, returning Yuri’s gaze with his own, laden with desire.

He didn’t remember the walk back to the bedroom, caught up in the desire reflected in Yuri’s eyes. They were in the living room, and then there was the bed, the light spilling in from the balcony, the bed half made. Yuri stopped when the backs of his thighs touched the edge of the bed, stroking his hands down Victor’s sides. His fingers found the hem of Victor’s shirt, tugging up suggestively even as he leaned in for another demanding, almost confident kiss.

“Strip,” was his request against Victor’s lips, shivering at the look in Victor’s eyes as he nodded, once. Victor smiled a moment after, lifting his arms as Yuri kept coaxing his shirt and overshirt up his chest. 

“Love to.”

Yuri met the playful curve of Victor’s lips with a tip of his head to the side, tugging up more firmly on Victor’s shirt. Teasing, he asked, “Then why are you still dressed?” as he pulled Victor’s shirts up and over his head, temporarily trapping Victor’s arms once he’d managed to get Victor’s head clear of the collars.

“Something about public indecency,” Victor murmured, looking to Yuri through the fringe of his bangs, bringing his arms back down between them. “Whatever it is you keep reminding me about when we drink.” 

Yuri pulled Victor’s shirts clear of his arms and hands, dropping them to the side without a second glance. “Kiss me,” he asked, not quite demanded, and Victor complied, lips quirked up into a smile before his arms wound around Yuri’s chest, kissing him full on the mouth. It was a deep kiss, as charged as the air between them, each half clothed in complementary ways. Yuri’s hands found the top edge of Victor’s trousers, fingers dipping in, tracing around to Victor’s front. He could feel Victor’s skin twitch under the teasing touch, Victor shivering in anticipation. Yuri dipped his fingers lower, teasing around the latch hook of Victor’s pants, brushing against the inside of his zipper. He leaned in closer, capturing Victor’s lower lip between his teeth and sucking, pulling a low moan out of Victor. When he let go, he dipped his fingers down again, flirting with latch hook again, kissing Victor’s cheek, his jaw, nuzzling under his ear.

“Lubricant,” he said, enunciation so precise that Victor jerked his head back in surprise, wondering how the hell an objectively unsexy word could manage to send an electrical shock coursing through him when spoken low and soft by his ear. He breathed out a laugh, picking up Yuri instead, lowering them both down to the mattress with one knee planted on the bed for support.

“Side table,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to Yuri’s lips, his cheek, the point of his chin. “Don’t move.” He pulled back, straightening up. One hand traced up the outside of Yuri’s thigh, up toward his knee, where his leg was pressed up against the outside of Victor’s. “Stay just like this.”

Disheveled, Yuri nodded, hands dropping away from Victor as his lover shifted toward the side table. Yuri watched him, craving more of him, wanting to finish his tease with his trousers, wanting to be freed from the confines of his boxers for almost practical concerns. He shifted, drawing his legs up on the bed, one hand splayed over his stomach and playing with the hem of his borrowed shirt. He imagined Victor’s hands on him, biting down on his lower lip as his other hand coasted lower, skimming over his partial arousal, making him shiver in response.

Victor wasted little time, dropping the bottle of lubricant next to Yuri. He reached out to still his hand on his stomach, preventing Yuri from hiking his shirt up any higher. “Just like this,” he asked, tongue tracing his upper lip as he looked down at Yuri, silver fringe of bangs half hiding his eyes. “Please.”

Yuri breathed in sharp, finding something about the request incredibly erotic in that moment. It might have been the undisguised desire in his eyes; it might have been the way he looked both hungry and a little lost, a little wondering, as his eyes skated over Yuri’s covered abdomen and chest, coming back to look him in the eyes.

“Okay,” Yuri managed around a thick tongue, not quite smiling, not quite nodding. He moved his hand lower, bringing Victor’s along with, feeling the trail of their hands burning along his skin, until they were at the waistband of his boxer shorts. “Help me?”

“Always,” was the response, Victor leaning down and pressing a kiss to the inside of Yuri’s bent knee before both hands were hooking into Yuri’s waistband, tugging. Yuri pulled his hands back, bracing them against the covers when he lifted his hips, drawing his knees together to make it easier for Victor to pull them free. In short order, his boxers were tossed to the side, Victor’s pants and underthings quick to follow. Even Victor’s socks, a detail that almost tempted Yuri to laughter, but more to frustration: only it felt like a delicate torture having to wait those few extra seconds for Victor’s hands to return to him. For Victor’s lips to return as he lifted Yuri’s right hand, kissing his fingers, his ring. For the touch of Victor’s bare thigh to the inside of Yuri’s leg as it was propped up and guided over Victor’s, until he was half hooked around him. 

Yuri reached up, the warmth of affection flowing through him tangled and mixing with the desire that made him want everything Victor wanted; that had him curling up and reaching to run his fingers over Victor’s cheek, brushing his silk-soft hair back. He wanted to see him, wanted to see where he was looking. Wanted Victor’s eyes on him, even in this embarrassing sort of intimacy. _Craved_ it with a strength of desire that surprised Yuri, even as it felt right, for now. It felt right while Victor looked as impossibly caught up in the same fervor that thrummed through Yuri, half erect and nestled up to the apex of Yuri’s thighs.

“Watch me,” he asked. No, as he ran his tongue over his upper lip, free hand rubbing down over his dick before angling to run over the length of Victor’s dick, coaxing it toward full erection, it wasn’t a request. He was demanding. “Don’t look away,” he clarified, gaze intent, hungry. Victor’s own dark gaze remained locked with his, and he tipped his head forward, lips parting. In a moment of further daring, Yuri ran the pad of his thumb over Victor’s lower lip, biting back a moan as Victor’s mouth closed over him, clever tongue circling around his finger as he sucked on it.

Unfair, having the tables turn like this. It was entirely too appealing, the twitch of Yuri’s erection instantaneous and embarrassing if Victor hadn’t responded in kind. Victor felt for the lube, leaning forward, hand dragging over the covers until the bottle brushed against his fingertips. He kept his eyes on Yuri, even as he uncapped the lube, pouring it out into his other hand. Dropping the capped lubricant again, Victor spread the cool liquid over both their lengths, joining Yuri in a slow stroke up, cupping over their heads, then stroking down. Slow at first, until they were both fully erect, Yuri rocking up into the downward motion of their hands, Victor keeping steady until he found Yuri’s rhythm, rocking forward in sliding tandem.

Pleasure suffused, a warmth that left Yuri aching with every motion made. He breathed in, mouth left open, watching Victor’s face as Victor watched him in turn. Yuri found his free hand falling away from Victor’s face, pressing to his chest instead, cupping his pectoral. 

He loved the feel of Victor under his palm. He loved the toe-curling pleasure of their joined hands over their dicks; a form of touch he’d never spent time considering before Victor had walked (back) into his life. Each introduction was leaving him wanting more, greedy and insatiable. He rocked his hips up now, thrusting into their hands, gritting his teeth as his head tipped back in a groan. _More_ , he thought, and Victor seemed to oblige, thrusting in time with him, moving his hand faster, stroking up and over their lengths, stroking back down to the base of their shafts. They weren’t a perfect match, not in size, not in girth, but perfect in their differences; the extra slide of Victor’s length a tease against Yuri, Yuri’s girth solid and pleasant in Victor’s hand.

“Say my name,” Victor asked, leaning forward to plant a hand on the mattress, breathing harder, pupils blown. “Yuri, say my name,” he came close to pleading, still watching Yuri’s face, seeing from the periphery the line of his shirt collar, the v that stretched down in silent invitation.

Yuri considered holding off, swallowing the sound of Victor’s name on his lips, curious if he would beg to hear his name if Yuri didn’t comply. Feeling a shiver pass through him at the thought of Victor begging, in general; _ah_ , he realised. _Something to ask about later._ In the now, he didn’t have it in him to refuse Victor, swallowing a moan as Victor slide against him.

“Victor,” he said, close to slurring the end syllable into the _ru_ that came close to naturally in his native tongue. Yuri felt Victor shudder, heard him gasp and groan, mouth open as he missed his rhythm fucking into their hands. “Victor,” Yuri said again, “ _Victor_ ,” rewarded each time with that shiver, that look of improbable affection and desire on Victor’s face.

It was heady. It was an electric shock through Yuri’s system that left him arching up and biting back a whine, moving his hand faster, coaxing Victor into doing the same. It was almost too much, Victor watching him as he had asked, as Yuri felt himself rushing toward climax if _only_ they kept this pace, if they didn’t slack off. He felt his eyes struggling to close, forcing them open, locking gazes with Victor as he tried to arch off the mattress yet again.

“ _Victoru_ ,” he cried, toes curling as he came, body tensing and jerking through his release, once, twice, a hard, third time as he kept his eyes on Victor’s in spite of the intensity of that look. The awe and desire and something else in Victor’s expression, softer and warmer and lingering, wormed into Yuri’s core, a pleasure and happiness and overwhelming sensation all of its own.

He didn’t get a chance to wonder at where his semen had landed, finding Victor shifting forward to kiss him hard, close to clacking teeth as he murmured a broken, “ _Yuri_ ,” moving his hips just enough to keep stroking over his length without dragging Yuri along into overstimulation. Yuri brought his hands up, forgetting in the moment the lubricant present on one, tangling his fingers in Victor’s hair as he kissed him back, swallowing his moan as Victor found his own release. He held Victor through the spasming shudders of his come, one hand at the nape of his neck, the other stroking down his back. Victor remained like that for a long moment, not quite resting on Yuri, one hand captured between them. When he lifted his head his blue eyes still looked too dark, filled with a bone-deep affection and adoration tinged with that earlier wonder.

“You’re incredible,” he said, and Yuri found it in himself to smile up at Victor without needing to immediately correct him. Expand on the point, yes, but not override it.

“So are you,” he said instead, cupping the side of Victor’s face. Victor leaned into the touch, turning his head to kiss Yuri’s palm, eyes closing for a brief moment. He breathed in, then out, eyes sliding open as he pressed another kiss into Yuri’s palm. “Good morning.”

Yuri snorted, curling himself up to press another kiss to Victor’s lips. Softer, less demanding than the minute before, but still hungry. Yuri was learning that under a lack of immediate stress he could be surprisingly insatiable for all manner of things. This, with Victor, everything with Victor included. “Morning.”

“We should probably shower,” Victor said, eyes flicking down to look at his shirt on Yuri. “And get that soaking.”

“Soaking?” Yuri blinked rapidly, slow to catch on as to _why_ that might be the case. When he did, he felt the colour drain from his face, chased back in again with the flood of embarrassment that left him blushing. “Oh no, Victor, I’m so sorry! I’ll fix this, just, I wasn’t thinking, I should have been on top, your _shirt_ —”

Victor’s grin was almost sly as he teased, breaking in to the rising frantic tumble of Yuri’s words with a quip of his own. “Is that a promise?” He helped pull Yuri up into a seated position, then up on his feet.

“I — what?” Yuri glanced down at his borrowed shirt, noting the strands and splotches of come decorating the lower portion. If he ever wanted to feel like a teenager struggling through wet-dreams about a certain Russian figure skater once again, he was doing a hell of a job trying to reclaim that part of his adolescence.

Victor tugged Yuri forward, starting them both walking to the bathroom. “That you’ll be on top,” he said, clarifying with a grin that had Yuri looking up abruptly, staring at him in a cross between mute surprise and uncertainty. Victor softened his expression, allowing himself to look as sincere as his request was at heart, for all it had been delivered as a tease. “I mean it. I would love if you were on top, whenever you want to be. Here,” he said, stopping them by the sink and tugging at the bottom hem of his loaned shirt. “We can let this soak while we’re cleaning up.”

Yuri brushed Victor’s hands away in order to pull the shirt over his own head in a fluid motion, giving himself that much time as a delay on responding to Victor’s blunt statement. He turned toward the sink, watching Victor pull the stopper and start the cold water running. “I, yes. I promise.” Cheeks aflame, he shoved the shirt into the filling bowl of the sink, squaring off against Victor with a look of determination in his eyes. “Maybe not, not right _now_ , but I promise I will. Some of the time. With pleasure.” He nodded, ten parts sure he was about to expire on the spot, two parts sure he was going to be fine.

One part sure he was going to be fine when Victor blinked, then slowly beamed at him, the radiant happiness that was his trademark spilling over as he threw his arms around Yuri and pulled him into a hug. “Yuri!”

Yuri ended up patting Victor’s back in bemusement, then in his own more sedate sort of joy. Less for being on top, whatever that actually included, more for being fully present in this moment, with the man he loved, talking about improbable things that tied into the even bigger improbable truth: their wedding, in some nebulous time in the future.

“Let’s bathe now, all right? It’s a good thing this shower’s so big, though I’m already missing the onsen…”

Victor laughed, pulling away from him reluctantly, ending up at Yuri’s side instead. “Nothing’s quite as impressive as Yu-topia. Did you see they have little star lights in the shower?”

It was surprising the ease they fell into simple intimacies, taking turns scrubbing each other’s back as they used the low stool tucked back under the higher benches, choosing a different bodywash for today. A cinnamon vanilla sort of scent, one Yuri joked made them smell more edible than was sensible, only to be met by Victor leaning over and experimentally nibbling on his shoulder. A careful shove and burst of surprised laughter led to an impromptu spray-fight with the two detachable showerheads, no clearly discernible winner in the end. 

Clean, toweled dry and wandering in their robes, they set about breakfasting on the croissants and orange juice Victor had picked up so thoughtfully earlier that morning. They sat side by side at the narrow counter looking out over the park across the way, sides pressed comfortably together.

“There’s this little crepe stand over by the base of the Eiffel Tower that looks amazing, if you feel up to something sweet or savoury after the croissants.” Victor’s lips twitched up into a grin. “We did manage to work up more of an appetite than I expected this morning.”

Yuri managed not to choke on his orange juice, nudging Victor in the side with his elbow. “Speaking of _expectations_ , are you going to be able to handle me wearing your things until my luggage arrives?”

Victor pretended to think this over, leaning his shoulder against Yuri’s as he turned his face toward his lover. “Mm, if I could handle you skating Eros in the costume I wore when I debuted in the Seniors division, I think I can behave myself with you in my normal clothing.” He paused, tapping a finger against his lips. “Probably.”

“Victor!”

He laughed, shaking his head. “It’s fine, Yuri. I faithfully promise to save all my incredible attraction to you in my clothes for when we’re safely in this flat.”

Yuri was still looking at him askance, caught between curiosity and embarrassment all over again. “No, I mean yes, good, thank you, but — you never had second thoughts about lending me your costume, did you?”

Victor reached for Yuri’s hand, lacing their fingers together as he smiled over at him. “Not even once,” he said, meaning it fully. Thousands of dollars into every costume, worn for a season and retired. Yuri’s rebirth of that costume in particular had been stirring, an event to behold. “Now, _other_ thoughts, ones that involve lots of kissing and touching, on the other hand…”

Yuri stayed suspiciously quiet on this point, giving a squeeze of Victor’s hand as he lifted his orange juice glass and took a sip of the fresh squeezed juice. “Delicious,” he said in response to Victor raising his eyebrows, peering at his face. “Where did you get this from again?”

“A grocery down the road.” Victor leaned on Yuri, resting his chin on Yuri’s shoulder. “No comment on the costume?”

A small, sly smile curved over Yuri’s lips. “Just food for thought.”

Victor’s eyes widened, his expression lighting up as he found himself laughing again, this time in delighted disbelief. “Yuri, wow!” Dropping his voice lower and leaning in to murmur into Yuri’s ear, he went on. “I look forward to seeing what kind of meal you make of that.” 

Yuri tried to ignore the way he blushed at that comment, taking another studied sip of his orange juice. Victor pressed a kiss to his cheek before returning to sitting upright in his own chair, smiling absently as he stared out the window. Then frowning as another thought intruded.

“Yuri, didn’t you say you’d put the kettle on earlier?”

Yuri set down his orange juice glass, blinking. “I did, yes.” He turned in his chair to look at the range. The kettle sat there, the range still on. “It never whistled.” He sounded dumbfounded.

Victor turned to regard the kettle himself, studying it for a long moment. “You know, Yuri, it looks like an iron kettle. Cast iron.”

“That’d explain why it was heavier,” Yuri said, speaking before his brain caught up to what Victor was trying to imply. “Oh, damn, it never _will_ whistle!”

“Nope,” Victor agreed, amicable and smiling. He turned back to Yuri, pulling their hands up to rest on the countertop. “Can’t say I mind, though. I’d have hated to interrupt what we were doing to turn the kettle off.”

Yuri blinked once, twice. Then promptly snorted, ignoring the fact he was still showing his embarrassment. He wouldn’t have appreciated the interruption either, even if it would have been his fault. “I’m turning off the range.” With another squeeze of Victor’s hand, Yuri let go, pushing back to stand and move for the range. Once up, it was easy enough to start on their few dishes, then setting his two changes of clothing into the washing machine. Crepes were starting to sound better and better, and even if they didn’t, they were in Paris. For the second time in his life, Yuri thought he could see some of the appeal behind sightseeing.

As with so much, he was finding it depended entirely on the company. And where Victor was involved? Yuri was finding more and more reason to tackle horizons he had dismissed if he’d even dreamed of them before off the ice. Small steps, gaining a sense of confidence to go alongside the anxiousness that would never truly leave, in all areas of his life.

Sightseeing. Turning it into a food extravaganza… that should be fine. Enjoyable, even. Drying his hands, he turned back to Victor, ready to continue embracing their day: the gift of their present, and the promise of their future.

“So tell me more about that crepe stand you saw…”


	3. roleplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day spent between Notre Dame de Paris and an evening open air movie viewing leads to a silly pass at Victor loosely pretending to be Yuri's bodyguard slash former spy as they head home, though they forget the gist of what they were doing when they get swept up in passions all of their own making.

Victor’s far from sly attempts at ensuring both he and Yuri maintained some baseline level of physically active even while on vacation meant that Yuri was mostly resigned and amused by the prospect of traversing Paris on foot. “What about the bicycles?” he’d asked the afternoon before, finding Victor agreeing they’d do fine as well. It explained why they were talking with a man running a bicycle rental service, Victor having moved past the rentals on to recommendations on routes and places to explore. Yuri listened to the lilting flow of French from Victor, shivering when Victor turned his face toward him, flashing him a smile and holding up his phone.

There was something incredibly attractive about hearing Victor speak in his third language. Even so, Yuri found himself tuning it out after a while. He understood one word in ten if he was lucky, reacting mostly to his name or people calling out _bonjour_ or _salut_ or however many variations on goodbyes and see you later he’s heard and forgotten by now. Victor’s beckoning jolted through his slow circling thoughts, Yuri moving to join him by the counter.

“He says this is one of the better apps for bike paths for Paris. We can put in our starting point and end point, from here to Notre Dame de Paris…” Victor tapped on the screen, writing out the name in question with a few quick pats of his finger against his phone. “Looks like it’s just over twenty minutes away by bike.”

Yuri glanced over the three suggested routes, all their estimated times of travel within minutes of each other. “Did we want to stay closer to the river?”

Victor turned to the bike rental clerk, presumably repeating the question in French. While he was listening to the response, the clerk gesturing with one hand toward some unknown place in the distance, Yuri pulled out his own phone to check for messages. There was a text from Phichit, telling him he better be relaxing, but more importantly, _tell Victor to post more photos on Instagram!_

They’d agreed to the temporary stop with how close they were staying to the Eiffel Tower, mostly for their own sake; Yuri worried at his lower lip. The rest would be fine, wouldn’t they? It was unlikely he and Victor would be returning to any of the locations further away from their flat this stay. Even though Phichit had said tell Victor to post more than the shot from the airport, Yuri knew the reason why Victor held back on making the photos he’d been taking public was Yuri’s initial, anxious request.

He felt better about it now, turning his face back toward the clerk as Victor laughed. Yuri offered a small smile out of ingrained polite reflex when the clerk smiled at him, nodding his head and turning his gaze toward Victor.

Victor, who smiled back at him with such fondness that Yuri felt his heart skip a beat. 

“He said that’s easiest on Sunday, if we wanted to rearrange things for then. Less traffic,” Victor said, quirking his eyebrows up in question. Yuri shook his head once, offering a small smile as he tucked his phone away. 

“No, it’s fine. I was just wondering. Which way will we be taking?”

Victor draped an arm over Yuri’s shoulders, bringing his phone up in front of him and navigating over the screen with his thumb. “We’ll follow along the Seine until about here, then head into the city along this street. We should find someplace we can chain the bikes up once we’re over the bridge to the island.”

He nodded, not so concerned with that as he might be. He was thinking about signs and who had the right of way between bicycles and vehicles already on the road, fingers starting to fidget with each other. Paris wasn’t a particular sleepy city, and traffic was an appreciable mass of moving vehicles, cyclists, and pedestrians.

Victor tucked his phone away, catching up Yuri’s hands and lifting them to press a kiss across his fingertips. “We can see how much of the cathedral we feel like touring, then find someplace to eat. I have at least three recommendations for cafes right close by. Did you see anything when you were looking last night?”

Yuri looked up and to the side, meeting Victor’s gaze with his own. His hands stilled in Victor’s grip, leaning his way and relaxing his shoulders. They weren’t hitting up every sightseeing spot the city had to offer, even with much more time for it than they’d had when it came to Barcelona. So far it felt about right for what Yuri wanted to do, getting out and moving and not stuck inside, while not constantly diving into a throng of people. Yuri didn’t _mind_ , but he liked having space and time to think. Victor made that easier, almost more relaxing than it used to be; his constant presence a balm Yuri hadn’t known he’d appreciate until Victor was so thoroughly a part of Yuri’s life that it didn’t bear questioning. These days, it didn’t even come with the attached time limit that had left Yuri’s stomach bottoming out.

There were compromises. Of course there were compromises, but the biggest one, what it took to get Victor back on the ice, hadn’t meant Yuri had to leave. Even if he still owed Victor the gold for Worlds, he’d be able to make that up to him this coming season. Yuri didn’t feel hopelessly behind; he knew he could do better, that he was continuing to improve. He was _good_ , and he could be better yet.

It wasn’t a despairing thought. The lows and castigation of his abilities didn’t keep him down and circling the drain of his own negative thoughts the way they had over a year ago. They still hit, like the nerves, the anxiety before he got past the boards onto the ice, but he knew he had support from just there, beyond the blinding lights. Victor, who believed in him; his family who loved him, even if Mari was a bigger fan of Yurio (and vocal about it, lips curled into a lazy smirk as she teased Yuri); Minako and Morooka shouting him on; fans of some number he didn’t know and didn’t try calculating. It was slow going realising they existed, and slower still when Yuri made small efforts at addressing them, Victor right there at his side the whole time.

Shaking hands and smiling at strangers beaming up at him, seeing a Yuri he still didn’t feel existed, wasn’t as difficult or awkward as it used to be. Still _hard_ , still taxing, still awkward when he felt like an impostor in his own skin in front of their admiration, but he could accept that he’d done something to earn that regard, that these people knew very little about him and still supported his career.

He had people who knew him to come home to, to text, to call on a schedule when their time-zones were standing in the way. He had Victor.

“Yuri?”

Yuri startled, blinking back into the present moment. Victor peered into his face, patiently waiting for an answer that Yuri had forgotten entirely to give. “Cafe Esmeralda,” he blurted out, scrambling for one of the names he could remember from searching on his phone last night. “They’re supposed to have really good apricot jam?”

Victor blinked, then smiled, breathing out in a huff of what might have been laughter. Still, his expression had softened. “Okay,” he said, squeezing Yuri’s shoulder. “Cafe Esmeralda.” Heading toward the bikes and cable locks being handed to them, both combination locks that Victor input into his phone, Victor mused, “Do you think they serve goat?”

Yuri furrowed his brow. “Cheese, maybe.” Victor laughed, Yuri smiling in response, shaking his head as he reluctantly pulled himself out from under Victor’s arm. They were forgoing helmets, though Victor had offered that they bike over by one of the stores likely to have them. Yuri had a long moment considering all the apparent horrors of head trauma injuries and the months Victor had been biking in Hasetsu before finally shaking his head no. It was a tie between a certain inward pessimistic streak and something like optimism saying that they were just as likely to come to serious injury on the ice as navigating the streets.

Not sound logic, but something in it allowed him to latch on and hold it close. He was still hyper-aware when he was biking along behind Victor, eyes wide behind his glasses, reminding himself not to jerk on the handlebars when he looked around, sweeping his gaze over the roadways. He found himself centering as they biked on, slowing to a stop at the lights and exchanging hellos with fellow cyclists as they were greeted in turn.

“ _Bonjour!_ ” One young woman said, flashing a bright smile his way while Victor waved from his far side. She started asking him a question in French, Yuri shaking his head and giving her an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak much French. _Je suis désolé_?” He hoped that was even approximately close to an apology. He’d asked Victor earlier, but the sounds all felt like a jumble on his tongue. 

The young woman laughed, shaking her head and replying in accented English. “That is fine. I speak some English! You are visiting? Where from?”

“Japan,” he’d managed before the traffic started moving, Victor calling out a cheerful challenge to Yuri as he pushed forward through the intersection after a straggling vehicle zoomed past. 

It was a surprisingly lovely ride, trees lining either side of the street once they’d pulled away from the river. He watched for the parked cars as much as the moving ones, Victor dodging a man stepping out of his car with a self-assured grace that Yuri desperately hoped he imitated when he likewise steered wide, fearing it was more like an awkward penguin wobble out of the way. He was gratified to see Victor toss a look back over his shoulder, grinning once he saw Yuri. Yuri grinned right on back.

Their first unimpeded sight of Notre-Dame de Paris was from across a bridge, pausing to wait for the flow of vehicles moving past to admit them passage. The stone or whatever it was of the cathedral wasn’t quite white, wasn’t quite beige. Would cream have been the better word? It carried that sense of rich fullness, though Yuri didn’t have long to look before he and Victor were pedaling forward alongside the cars crossing the bridge they were headed toward. It wasn’t until after they’d managed to find someplace to lock up their bicycles that Yuri managed a proper look, surprised by the odd appeal behind the gothic structure looming overhead. In the full light of the sun it almost seemed lit from within, more a trick of his perception than a reality. Still, it was lovely, this monument to a faith Yuri had nothing to do with. He could appreciate the artistry, feeling Victor hand slip into his as they walked toward the portals leading in from the Western façade. 

(He’d learn they were referred to as the portals later. At the time, he simply thought of them as ornate wooden doors with detailed, layered carvings framing them where they set into the walls.)

“Do you have any idea who they are?” he asked, lifting his eyes to the line of carved figures spanning the length of the Western façade, at the peak of the carved stone framing each of the three doors.

Victor shook his head, smiling in barely concealed excitement. There was a certain fascination with history along with the beauty of human creations to be had when looking on architecture like this. He felt it keenly in that moment. “None.” He gave Yuri’s hand a squeeze, his next step bouncing. “Let’s find out!”

Yuri found himself tugged along to a better vantage point, Victor coming to a stop to regard the carved figures and carved doors with their own separate carved figures posted around them and over the doors themselves. It was a plethora of carvings, small dioramas of scenes he half recognised from other contexts. Beautiful either way he looked at it, for the detail that went into them, for the way this all had been maintained for centuries. 

Casual conversation with another couple named the portals as portals not long after, Yuri mulling over the idea of the Last Judgement with a shiver of his own. “Victor, are you Catholic?”

The question seemed to take his lover by surprise. Victor shook his head, smiling faintly as he looked upon the carved figures in the portal of Saint Anne. “No. The Eastern Orthodox Church is more popular in Russia, but I wouldn’t call myself an active practitioner. Not in any organised sense.”

Yuri studied his face, his own expression wondering. Religion wasn’t something he spent much time considering, not past what he knew as traditions in his own household, more Shinto than Christian. It occurred to him now that it might have been something that mattered to Victor, only he didn’t say so now. Yet Agape had been explained as something as all encompassing, as generous as God’s love. Unconditional love. He wondered if the choice in words had been deliberate even as they started back toward the reception desk and general information, leaving the thought to wander through the back of his mind.

All thoughts were shoved back once he found himself under vaulted ceilings stretching high overhead, cleverly lit to drive back the shadows that might otherwise have tried to take root. Dozens of ornate stained glass windows filtered the daylight, brilliant, rich blues and reds and greens and yellows, even browns. His breath caught in awe, impressed in spite of whatever he might have expected when he walked inside. A cathedral hadn’t sounded all that interesting, offhand.

The reality was so much more.

Victor leaned into his shoulder, walking side by side in quiet, the soft murmur of whispered voices and feet moving over the ground. It was a place of living and historical faith, lending itself to lowered voices and casual, polite touches to draw attention to this statute, to that window. To this glass case, to the way the light filtered through the pillars. Victor had his phone out, careful to tap off his flash as had been requested, asking Yuri to pose with him as they took a handful of photographs inside the cathedral. Respectfully, of course; most their coupled shots were ones that highlighted the architecture or immensity of the cathedral. 

Only once did Yuri catch Victor taking a candid photo when he didn’t expect. They’d been standing toward the center of the hall, looking up at the incredible display of light filtering through the Western rose stained glass window, near to thirteen meters wide. The scale alone was incredible, but paired with the exquisite detail, the rich, evocative colours of the glass? Yuri didn’t need to know any of the stories of the figures depicted in the circles of glass, arranged in concentric circles with their connecting geometric shapes making them almost seem like the spread feathers of a peacock’s tail, fanning out a full three hundred sixty degrees. 

The people who’d been around them had finished their murmured sounds of delight and appreciation, moving on, when Yuri realised Victor wasn’t standing at his side. He turned, more perplexed than worried, only to find Victor kneeling two meters behind him, phone out, expression difficult to read. Victor glanced up, smiling as he met Yuri’s gaze. He brushed off his knees after straightening up, lifting his phone in answer to the question Yuri hadn’t verbalised.

“I found something I wanted to try and capture. I’ll show you later.” He moved closer, linking his arm through Yuri’s, looking more content than before. He patted Yuri’s arm as they continued their sedate stroll through the cathedral, only letting go when they investigated getting to visit the cathedral’s towers. It was a brief wait for the next group being brought up, Victor regaling Yuri with translations of statements he was hearing from the French tour group about to head further inside. Yuri tried not to shiver as Victor spoke low and soft by his ear, the cadence of his voice almost lulling as he settled into his interpretations.

He found himself swallowing and squirming, feeling a little tight and wound up as they headed up. He was able to shake that off in exchange for the pleasure of the view from on high, smiling and gesturing with his hand off toward the Eiffel Tower in the distance.

“It’s incredible how much taller that stands than anything around!”

Victor hummed a nonanswer, smiling absently. He snuck an arm around Yuri’s waist, tugging him closer, surveying the world as it lay before them. The cityscape of Paris was different from Hasetsu, from Saint Petersburg. Different from Detroit, that was for certain. It wasn’t a city of skyscrapers, though it bustled and breathed like many of the populous cities Victor had visited over the years. 

“There was love in all of this,” he said instead, feeling Yuri’s arm wrap around his waist in turn.

“Hm?” Yuri turned his face toward Victor, not sure he followed the leap in logic. Paris as a city of lights, sure, of lovers? Yet what love of the many kinds that Yuri acknowledged these days did he mean? “In all of what?”

Victor focused in on Yuri, smile warming as his mind came back to the present. He made a grand, encompassing gesture of the city before them, the towers of the cathedral, the people nearby. “All of this,” he said, rolling his wrist and holding out the whole of his hand in the direction of one of the stone gargoyles perched on high, staring down toward the ground with an open mouth. “Especially that.”

“The gargoyle.”

“Including the gargoyle. It’s much less imposing that Chihoko,” Victor said, keeping a straight face. Yuri groaned as Victor leaned in, murmuring by his ear, “Am I shining?”

What in the world had he done to deserve this? Yuri breathed out in a huff, hand at Victor’s hip tugging him a little closer. “Very brightly. Please don’t go stripping down and trying to climb the cathedral towers. I’m fairly sure that’s both illegal _and_ sacrilegious.”

Victor gasped; or laughed, it was hard to tell. “Yuri!” He said, as if shocked by the implication. “I would never!”

Their energy from a scant breakfast of porridge and fresh fruit was running thin by the time they were back on solid ground, making Yuri’s suggestion of the Cafe Esmeralda seem all the more paramount as Victor pulled up directions on his map app. “L’Esmeralda is right down the road.” He looked up, nodding his head around to the right. “If we head around the cathedral, we’ll find it across the road, facing the square behind it.”

Yuri linked hands with Victor, lacing their fingers together as they set off, falling into a comfortable silence. He was circling his own thoughts, in a good way. Worrying at the idea of doing something for Victor, approaching the concept from different angles. For all he was finding he enjoyed sightseeing with Victor as his guide, borrowing and feeding on Victor’s genuine enthusiasm and appreciation for the historical as well as the modern, he wanted to give some of that back in turn. 

The challenges were obvious in his eyes. For one, he knew nothing about Paris beyond the fact it had several landmarks and was in the country that had birthed his happy nemesis, Champagne. For another, he didn’t speak the primary language, and for all they’d been running into a fair number of people who spoke English, or who had English translations provided, it would have been nice to have a lingual leg up on the situation.

Nevermind all that. Yuri steeled his shoulders, eyes lighting up with that inner fire that crept in whenever he set upon an idea he meant to act on. Victor watched him quietly, wondering what in the world had started Yuri’s eyes sparkling in that way today. No statement was forthcoming as they walked underneath the shade of the trees spilling over the wrought iron fence to their right, leading Victor to suspect that whatever it was, it’d be some sort of surprise.

He embraced the warmth that flowed through him at that thought, tinged with excitement. His heart ached in the way he’d started identifying with his love and fondness for Yuri almost a year ago, as the boundaries between them slowly shifted into something friendlier, more intimate. Something that didn’t ascribe well to labels, for all Victor was perfectly aware of the use and function of such things.

He lifted their hands, kissing over their entwined fingers without comment. At Yuri’s look of surprise, a light blush tinging his cheeks pink, Victor could only smile.

“You were lost in thought,” he said, by way of explanation. “I didn’t want to interrupt you. Ah, there’s the cafe.” He let their hands drop back down between them, swinging them and nodding toward the teal and white striped canopy across the way. He beamed, the prospect of new food and what looked like excellent people watching with Yuri obliged to sit right next to him, sharing the same side of a table, appealing. 

Yuri managed to look only mildly dismayed as they crossed the street, feeling more content himself once they’d ordered and were seated with their coffee, food en route. He leaned in to watch as Victor flipped through the photos they’d taken, marking one with a star every so often. Victor came to the one from when he’d been kneeling, regarding it with a soft expression on his face.

“Look,” he said, offering his phone over to Yuri entirely. “This one came out better than I’d hoped.”

It was hard for Yuri to be objective when it came to seeing himself in photographs. For the most part, he didn’t _mind_ them. He wasn’t unattractive, in a manner of speaking, and he had no particular hang-ups about how he looked outside of a general awareness of his metabolism’s devilish tendency to pack on weight at every opportunity. He just had the world’s most unfortunate tendency to almost always be caught looking _surprised_ in candid photos, so he half expected Victor to be showing him a shot from when he’d turned around to find him missing.

He didn’t look surprised in this photograph. Yuri wasn’t looking at the camera at all. Victor had managed to bring his phone low to the ground, angling up to catch a dramatic upshot of Yuri in silhouette, the Western rose window framing his head like an aura; like a crown. It was all an optical illusion, generated by angles and Victor’s sense of artistry. It was still striking. Powerful, with that low angle, the light haloing to either side of Yuri’s shadowed form.

“How did that even work?” he said, staring down at the phone screen, struck by the impossibility of it all. “You’re sure you didn’t just edit two photos together on your phone right now?”

Victor pouted, lifting his mug and taking a sip, looking absolutely _wounded_ at the accusation of creative editing talents. “Yuri, that’s giving me entirely the wrong kind of credit.” He set his mug down again, leaning into Yuri’s shoulder. “I want to post that one to Instagram, along with the one from out front. Would you mind?”

A dot of foam clung to the corner of Victor’s mouth, just above the line of his lips. Yuri answered absently as his eyes were drawn to this irrelevant detail, bringing his free hand up to wipe away the foam with a careful swipe of his thumb.

“I don’t mind. We’ll be heading back soon, won’t we?” Now he had the problem of foam on his thumb. Yuri gave a small mental shrug, popping his thumb into his mouth to lick it clean. He missed the way Victor’s eyes fixated on his mouth, lips parting as Yuri’s tongue lathed over his thumb.

“... Yes,” Victor said a beat later than necessary, reaching for his phone again to leave it lying on the table before him. He reached up to rest his fingertips over the spot Yuri had wiped clean, smile soft and unaccountably happy. “Once we eat I figured we’d either head back or meander toward the flat, one way or another.”

They talked about what they’d seen in the cathedral, about stained glass and from there, for no real reason, about lighthouses. Yuri concluded that he might have been able to manage a life as a lighthouse keeper. Victor concluded that he would have had to have been a sailor brought safely into port by the warning flash of Yuri’s lighthouse, seeking him out to express his gratitude, so they could have met all over again.

All these were silly, nonsensical conversations that left both of them chuckling as their food arrived. Victor ended up feeding Yuri part of his order, the _choucroute garnie_ in what Yuri didn’t actually think _could_ be French when he recognised the sauerkraut. _The more you know_ , he thought wryly to himself.

Talking about food brought up a niggling thought from the day before. Victor tapped on the table, tilting his head to the side, chin cradled in his hand.

“Yuri, have you ever been to an outdoor movie showing?”

Yuri looked up from what he was eating, swallowing and hiding his mouth behind his hand. “Ah, not that I remember. Is there something like that going on this week?”

“Mm, so I was told yesterday. This summer’s theme is food, one way or another. Sound interesting?”

Food and Yuri’s love of what he couldn’t indulge himself in eating. He evaluated Victor for a moment, wondering if this might be a tease, or if he minded. He decided he didn’t, much as he decided that whatever tease there was might not matter in the first place. Victor was offering one more possibility.

Yuri set down his fork, nudging his knee against Victor’s. “It sounds fun. Let’s do it.”

Victor’s answering smile was reward enough. His leaning in to press a brief kiss to Yuri’s hair was… Yuri didn’t have a word for it, but wonderful would work well enough for now.

* * *

“Victor.”

“It could be worse, you know.”

“Victor.”

“If could have been a foreign film with subtitles.”

“ _Victor_.”

“Trying to read and translate French at the same time would have been even more distracting.”

Yuri believed subtitles would have been more distracting for _Victor_. As it was, Yuri was damnably distracted himself, Victor having been speaking low into his ear as he interpreted the words being spoken by the actors on screen so that Yuri had a sense of what was going on. Not that Yuri needed the _words_ when he could see what was happening, but he had to admit, it would have added context.

If Victor had actually been interpreting what was being said instead of making up his own storyline.

“You expect me to believe that we really just watched a movie about a baker and the spy who’d been assigned as her bodyguard but ended up falling in love with her along the way.”

Victor hummed, hooking his chin over Yuri’s shoulder and tightening his arms around his waist. He’d spent the last hour and a half curled up around his fiance murmuring in his ear. As far as Victor was concerned, tonight had been a rousing success.

“There was baking involved either way,” he said, unrepentant. “I told you the more interesting story. Wasn’t it romantic?”

Yuri had to laugh at that, leaning back into Victor and stretching out his legs. “Which part? When the ‘spy’ liberated that pie from the goose trying to make off with it and the baker rewarded her with a chocolate kiss? Or when the ‘spy’ stepped into her role as bodyguard to sweep the baker off her feet for a lakeside vacation while she needed to ‘lay low’ and stay out of public attention for a week?”

“All of it,” Victor said, sounding assured. “Are you saying you wouldn’t find the idea of a professional spy and/or bodyguard dedicating himself to protect you, then falling in love along the way even when he knew he shouldn’t just a little appealing?”

In all honesty, it sounded like something out of a bad romance novel. Yuri’s sense of appealing was all wrapped up in the arms holding him; he hadn’t really thought about the appeal in romantic situations, too caught up in running hard after his dream of skating on the same ice as Victor. He leaned his head against Victor’s, making a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat.

Could he see the appeal there? In being wanted so much that someone compromised their professional integrity to make sure you were okay?

… Why did that sound almost familiar?

“I suppose,” he said, rubbing one hand over Victor’s forearm. “There might be some appeal in that. The whole what, getting swept up and away in some… I don’t know. Some kind of romantic fantasy.”

Victor hummed a pleased note, speaking in a low voice by Yuri’s ear. “So if I were to say Mr. Katsuki, your life is in danger. I need you to come with me if you want to live, you’d say…?”

Yuri snorted, patting Victor’s arm. “That you’re ridiculous, but fine, lead me away, Mr…?”

“Nikiforov,” he said, chuckling. “Victor Nikiforov.”

“Nice Bond reference. Though I’ve got one important question for you, Victor Nikiforov.” Yuri let a beat of silence fall between the both of them. “Do the Nikiforov Boys have a better survival rate than the Bond Girls?”

“ _Yuuuri!_ ”

Laughing, they disentangled themselves, Victor picking up their borrowed basket while Yuri started folding the lawn blanket they’d used for the movie. Holding hands, they shuffled out with the rest of the crowd, picking a random direction and heading down the road for a block or so. Easier to Uber from an address picked out at random, Victor looking down at his phone and quirking up an eyebrow. A playful grin lifted the corner of his mouth; basket hung over one arm, he tossed his head and winked, bangs sliding off his forehead.

“Mr. Katsuki, I have reason to believe your life may be in danger. I also have a one hundred percent client survival rate, and I haven’t seduced anyone in approximately the last twenty years. Please come with me, I want you to live.”

Yuri gave him a blank stare before lifting his blanket in a mock threat, flopping its weight against Victor’s chest to his laughing protest. “You’re ridiculous,” Yuri said, just as promised, tugging on Victor’s hand and moving to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “And there’s no one I’d rather be alive around anyway. How long until the car arrives?”

Victor stole another lazy kiss before he held up his phone to check. “Another minute or so.”

Yuri nodded, standing close to Victor’s side. They watched the street, the city coming to life under the lights of its night. It was a fascinating transition, one that happened far more gradually than Yuri realised. He shook himself out of the reverie he’d fallen into as their ride pulled up to the sidewalk, hanging in a no parking zone for the time being.

“Aren’t you going to ask for my name?”

“Victor, get in the car.”

Victor opened the door, nodding with his head for Yuri to go first. “That’s supposed to be _my_ line,” he said with a mock-sigh, sliding in next to Yuri and greeting their driver with a smile. He kept the basket balanced in his lap on the drive back to their flat, thanking the driver as he exited, standing by the door and waiting for Yuri to slide out too. He closed the door, slipping up next to Yuri, free hand coming to rest against the middle of his back.

“Let’s get you inside, Mr. Katsuki. The quicker the better.”

Yuri could tell Victor was still joking around, nodding his head and attempting to look solemn and somewhat frightened. He mostly managed passably tolerant, though as they waited for the lift to arrive in the lobby, Yuri found the familiar press of Victor’s hand at his back a comfort. “Are you planning on staying this close to me all night, Mr. Nikiforov?”

Stepping onto the lift, Victor set the basket on the floor in a smooth motion before reaching up to press the button for their floor. He watched the elevator doors close before he shifted the bulk of his attention to Yuri, amusement and the kind of desire Yuri was getting more used to seeing burning in his blue eyes. Victor stepped forward, hands skating over Yuri’s chest, under his arms, down along his sides. His hands came to a rest on the back of Yuri’s thighs, just under the curve of his buttocks; Victor bent his knees and lifted Yuri, walking them the few centimeters back to the side wall of the lift.

Yuri gasped, taken by surprise, clutching the blanket in one hand as he threw his arms around Victor’s shoulders in reflexive response. The wall at his back was reassuring, steadying and then almost overwhelming as Victor surged against him, holding Yuri up high enough that his feet didn’t touch the ground. Yuri found himself hooking his legs around the back of Victor’s, staring into Victor’s face, arousal thrumming through him with surprising intensity as Victor shifted his grip to better support Yuri’s new position. 

“No,” Victor said at last, staring up into Yuri’s face in return. “I planned on staying even closer, if you’d let me.” Victor leaned his head in closer, leaving scant space between his mouth and Yuri’s. It made keeping eye focus difficult, but the intent behind it was all the more apparent like this than it had been a second before. “I don’t want to let you out of my sight.”

Yuri had no idea if this was more of their silly farce with the spies and bodyguards or not; he supposed it didn’t matter so much. The intensity in Victor’s eyes, the way they darkened, all of that was familiar. Stirring. Yuri found himself closing his eyes and pressing a heated kiss to Victor’s mouth, darting his tongue out to trace under Victor’s upper lip. “Funny,” he said, speaking against Victor’s lips as he opened his eyes, “Because I never want you to look away.”

Victor kissed him hard after that, squeezing his thighs and keeping him pinned to the side of the elevator with his weight alone. Yuri clung back, feeling a thrill at the almost but not quite public setting; knowing he wouldn’t like this in actual public, but in this more controlled setting. The lift chimed out their floor, neither one of them responding right away. It took Victor realising he had no way of getting the basket back up to reluctantly allow Yuri to slide down, helping him regain his feet before he reached out and pressed the door open button. 

“Flat?” he asked.

“Now,” Yuri agreed, feeling his cheeks heat with a mixture of embarrassment at the directness of his own desire and that desire itself. Victor swept up the basket, pulling Yuri into another kiss as they stepped out into the hallway. He refused to let go, walking in tandem with Yuri at his side, even going so far as to coax Yuri into facing him at the door and kissing him soundly against it, fumbling through his pocket for the key.

They entered the flat like that, kissing and stumbling, breaking apart to pull off their shoes and set the blanket and basket down on the marble topped drawers near the entranceway. Yuri helped Victor shrug out of his overcoat, tossing it toward the oval dining table tucked up against the nearby wall. Victor worked Yuri out of his own coat in turn, throwing it toward the same table, careless of where it fell.

Victor wanted to feel skin under his palms, pulling up on the hem of Yuri’s borrowed shirt and finding it did no less for him today than the day before. He had to break off from kissing Yuri’s perfect, lovely lips in order to tug the shirt up and over his head, somehow only knocking Yuri’s glasses askew instead of right off his face. Dropping the shirt at their feet, he breathed out in an amused huff, reaching up to gently correct the way Yuri’s glasses fell across the bridge of his nose.

Yuri tugged his glasses off right after, eyes raking down over Victor, a frown tugging his lips down at the corners. “Too many layers,” he lamented, reaching out to pull the bottom edge of Victor’s shirt up, tugging it out of his pants along with the layer he wore underneath. Victor obliged him, pulling his shirts off completely, letting them fall from his hands to the floor without a second thought.

They pressed together, chest to chest, hands stroking down over each other’s backs before fingers dug in, curving upward as they kissed each other, hungry, wanting. Yuri didn’t know if it was him who hummed a simple note of pleasure first or Victor, but he wanted more. Wanted Victor panting, calling out to him; wanted to be reduced to a weak-kneed state by the man he was kissing like his life depended on it.

Which he supposed was true, in Victor’s whimsical scenario, or in the rich tapestry of their shared reality. He groaned in protest when he felt Victor leaning back, pulling away in degrees. 

“Yuri, your glasses.” 

Yuri lifted his hand off Victor’s shoulder, glasses dangling from them, lenses smudged with fingerprints. Victor reached out to take them from Yuri, tugging them gently free, leaning in to kiss him again, slower, more lingering this time. 

“I’ll be right back.” Victor’s words were a promise, one Yuri believed in, impatient as he felt. “Don’t move.”

Yuri let Victor step away, finding himself dangerously close to pouting. Victor was starting to rub off on him in ways he hadn’t expected, though the mute stubbornness that had Yuri moving as soon as Victor was slipping off to the bedroom was all on him. Yuri finished stripping down, pants, boxer shorts, even socks left in a pile to the side of the plush, faux leather chairs nearby. He found himself running one hand over his stomach, fingers splaying, moving up his midline toward his chest. His other hand drifted over the curve of his hip bone, the dip on the inside curve of his leg, and down, stroking over himself.

Victor walked back in with a bottle of a different lubricant in hand, stopping as he caught sight of Yuri playing with himself there in the dark, light from outside reflecting off the wall of mirrors at his back. He knew, without a doubt, that there were few more arresting sights in the world than that of Yuri Katsuki doing pretty much anything. Yuri Katsuki feeling himself up, biting down on his lower lip, tracing circles around one nipple and then dragging his nails diagonally down his chest…

Victor was a remarkable quick stripper most the time. Tonight he almost believed he’d teleported out of his pants and underwear, only pausing to pull off his socks because of the wood flooring. He returned to Yuri’s side, ducking his head to press a kiss over his nipple, then opening his mouth and sucking over the same place. Yuri’s hand flew up to tangle in Victor’s hair, eyes opening wide as he breathed in sharp, a small, happy sound catching in the back of his throat.

“ _Victor._ ”

“You moved,” he said, tracing his tongue in a circle around Yuri’s contracted areola. 

“I didn’t really mean to,” he said, “Sorry.” He almost sounded contrite, but the way he looked at Victor didn’t carry any of that concern. 

“No apology needed,” Victor said. He kissed a lazy trail across Yuri’s chest to lavish the same attention to his other nipple, one hand coming to rest at Yuri’s hip. He was absurdly pleased to note Yuri hadn’t stopped playing with himself, growing more and more erect. He wanted to watch that, wanted Yuri to see as well…

Victor kissed up the center of Yuri’s chest, straightening to capture his mouth with his own. Yuri was far more demanding, the heat of his building arousal making him greedy, wanting more. Enough so to make a small sound of distress when Victor kissed his cheek after, making a request. “Come with me.”

Yuri allowed himself to be led into the open space between the black pleather armchairs and their smooth silver sides. He stopped touching himself as Victor prompted him into turning away, facing the mirror and their reflections. 

“Will this be okay?” Victor asked, sliding an arm around Yuri’s waist, pressing his palm against Yuri’s pectoral. “I wanted us both to see you. All of you.”

Dazed, Yuri really _looked_ in the mirror, seeing himself standing naked and almost fully erect, Victor at his back and side, pale and shadow on one side, pale and warm light on the other. He saw his hand still resting on his thigh, starting to pull it away from himself by reflexive embarrassment. Was he okay with this? He swallowed, shivering as Victor pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“It has to be okay with you, Yuri.” Holding Yuri against his chest and staying there, warm and steady at his back.

Yuri swallowed, lifting his eyes to meet Victor’s in the mirror. He was embarrassed, he knew that, but also aroused. By the lower register Victor had slipped into, by the attentive concern he could see on his lover’s face, by the fact he was being asked. He nodded his head once, determination firming a resolve that could and would flow away like water, without warning.

“Yes. This is okay with me,” he said, hand rubbing up and down his thigh. Nerves, he thought. Anticipation as well. He swallowed, recapturing some of the absurdity from earlier in a desperate grab for inspiration. “I can’t think of a better way for us both to watch your back.”

Victor chuckled and pressed another soft kiss to his shoulder, nodding. “You have a point. Yuri, tell me if you change your mind. It’s okay.”

Yuri turned his head to the side, kissing what he could reach of Victor’s face. His smile this time was small, but sincere. “I will. I promise.”

“Mm, good.” Nuzzling in against Yuri’s neck, Victor let his hand travel down, stroking over his lover’s abdomen, lower still, over the mound above his groin, and lower. He brushed by the length of his erection, cradling his scrotum. Yuri bit down on his lip again, groaning into the fist he raised and held in front of his mouth. “You should keep touching yourself,” Victor said, lifting his eyes to watch Yuri in the mirror. “It was a compelling show.”

“I was hoping for more seductive,” he joked, fingers twitching as he slid his hand in toward his groin again. It was easier to run his palm over his dick, lifting his eyes to look in the mirror. He shivered at the expression on Victor’s face, the way his lips had parted, as he watched Yuri touching himself, touching Yuri at the same time.

It was intoxicating in a way that Yuri wouldn’t forget in the morning. He had that kind of sway for Victor. Incredible, improbable, and yet so evidently true. A measure of confidence crept into Yuri’s stomach, warming him alongside his desire and the love that ached higher, around his heart.

He felt Victor pressed against his backside, chest to his back, hips slotted behind Yuri’s hips. He could even feel Victor’s erection twitch as it grew, caught between them; all while he watched Victor watching him. All while he ran his tongue over his upper lip and half closed his eyes, forming a loose ring with his fingers and stroking up and down over his length. Victor’s fingers kept up their gentle, deft touches, stroking over and cradling Yuri’s testes. When Victor slipped hi shand further into run a finger along his perineum, Yuri actually moaned out loud, not catching himself.

“You’re beautiful,” Victor said, along with other adjectives he murmured into his ear. Amazing was his favourite; wonderful, incredible, fantastic. The words blurred into a pleasant hum, one that warmed him, sustained part of his soul that tried hard not to be brought to pieces by his anxieties. The only break to Victor’s sweet nothings was a direct question, “Thighs okay, or would you rather not?”

It was a permission game, one that Yuri appreciated even when it drove him mad. “ _Yes_ ,” he said, watching Victor uncap the lubricant, squeezing it out into the same hand. The anticipation was heightened as he watched and felt Victor spread lube between his upper thighs; as Victor then moved his hand to join in the up and down rhythm Yuri had been establishing for himself. He shifted, bringing his legs together, crossing one foot just barely in front of himself. They were close enough to the mirrors that Yuri could reach out and lean against them if he were so inclined. 

The head of Victor’s dick was a warm, firm presence at the back of Yuri’s thighs. Victor pulled his lube-covered hand back to help line himself up with the crease of Yuri’s thighs, pushing forward with slow precision. Victor breathed in long and deep once he’d pushed himself flush with Yuri’s backside; the head of his penis nudging out the front of Yuri’s thighs. Yuri could feel that, could see the evidence in the mirror in spite of the diffuse and shadow heavy lighting. He bit back a groan that had less to do with the pumping of his hand and more to do with the sight of Victor like this at his back, the evidence of his arousal caught between Yuri’s thighs.

They fell into a rhythm, Victor rocking forward, Yuri tightening his thigh muscles for added resistance every so often. Yuri’s hand moved up and down, matching the pace of Victor thrusting from behind. It was intense like this, and difficult to draw his eyes away from even as his own arousal and the state it left him in was faintly embarrassing. It seemed to matter less when Victor was right there with him, looking disheveled and as hopelessly, happily entangled in this moment as Yuri was. 

They went slower than they had coming through the door, Victor playing with Yuri’s scrotum before moving up to his chest, tracing circles around his navel, then each nipple in turn. Victor used both arms and his hands to keep Yuri balanced in front of him, kissing his neck, his shoulders, his face, his lips when they could manage the angle. 

As Victor thrust more heavily between Yuri’s thighs, Yuri reached out with the hand he hadn’t been using for self-pleasure to brace himself against the mirror. Victor’s soft words and praises were quickly becoming interspersed with soft gasps and moans and sudden inhalations as Yuri pushed his ass back against Victor, gyrating. Victor thrust a little harder in response, then kept it up as Yuri moaned out a _yes._

Yuri shivered under the onslaught of sensation, speeding up the movement of his hand as he started panting, gritting his teeth in an attempt at concentration. He felt almost electric, each point of contact too bright, too searing for him to handle, at the same time that they could never be enough. “Victor!” He pressed on, feeling his toes try to curl as he crashed over the edge, edges of his vision almost feeling like they flared white while he tensed, mouth open, head flung back as he came. Three shuddering jerks of his body as he came, then a fourth, seconds later, as Victor continued thrusting, seeking his own release.

There was a pleasant edge of overstimulation as Victor moved both his hands to Yuri’s hips, anchoring himself, holding them together. Yuri could see most of Victor’s expression reflected back at him, tipping his head to the side to watch Victor come undone behind him, thrusting hard and fast until Yuri could feel precum beading on the head of his own dick once more.

When Victor came, he reached around to clasp his hand over the head of his dick. He shuddered, falling forward against Yuri, catching his balance even as Yuri did the same. “Oh, _Yuri_ ,” was all he managed to get out before he was nothing but ragged breathing and heat and warmth and muscle against Yuri. He rode out the waves of his orgasm with gentle kisses to Yuri’s shoulder, especially, nipping at the meat of his muscle there. Victor lifted his gaze, catching Yuri’s eyes in the mirror.

“Wow,” he said, close to panting. “ _Amazing!_ ”

Yuri smiled, something at turns shy and coy in his expression. “You too,” he said. “Best bodyguard I’ve ever had.”

“Best bootieguard too,” Victor agreed with a breathy laugh, leaning in to nose at his ear. Yuri opted to ignore the terrible pen, half believing he simply misheard Victor when he spoke.

They stood like that, leaning against the mirror, pressed as flush together as they could afford to be. Yuri eventually rallied, turning his face toward Victor, away from the mirror and its strangely intoxicating view.

“Shower and then head to bed?”

“Do I get to be in both with you?”

Yuri smiled, closing his eyes. “The shower’s big enough for five.”

“Which is three more than the number of people we even have here.” He straightened up, helping keep Yuri steady while he found his feet. “And three more than I’m interested in having around at all.” Yuri felt himself blushing again as they headed for the bathroom sink, cleaning cum off their hands and turning on the shower proper. It was a quick rinse for them both, cleaning off lubricant. Victor made liberal use of the provided robe again, patting his hair dry as Yuri finished getting ready for bed. When they finally crawled under the covers, Victor was nude, and Yuri was sleeping in just his boxer briefs. Victor curled up tight around Yuri from the side, falling asleep to the feeling of fingers brushing through his hair more easily than he had from sheer exhaustion in days.

He loved this, even more than the other forms of gratification. The simple pleasure of curling up next to the man he loved, of having that man shower him with affection in turn. 

There was nothing better in his world. 


	4. free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Louvre proves immense, the Mona Lisa proves to be viewed at a distance, and an afternoon of shower fellatio gets interrupted by feelings, only to resume again after hugging it out.

Yuri woke up alone, resting on his stomach, one arm curled under his pillow, the other thrown out across the mess of bedsheets. The depression where Victor had slept by his side was cool, the blankets partly smoothed over. Yuri squinted, moving his arm to upset them all with a grumble as he protested his own awakening. There was no point resisting, really. He was an early riser out of habit most days with the training schedule he kept, but he’d never really been able to fully transition into a morning person.

He could hear sounds coming from outside the bedroom, muffled enough that his tired mind wondered what Victor was doing. He lifted his head, pointing his toes as he tucked his arms up around the pillow and pulled it under his chest, arching his back and tipping his head backward as he stretched. He promptly flopped back on his side, pillow still held to his chest.

Today… today was Thursday? They had plans for today. Yuri closed his eyes again, weighing the pros and cons of wiggling to the side of the bed to claim his cellphone from where it lay charging. His percolating thoughts were interrupted by footsteps coming closer, Victor’s bright, cheerful voice cutting through the lingering laze that left Yuri limp where he lay.

“Yuri, time to get up! Breakfast is ready and we’re heading out to the Louvre in less than an hour.”

Yuri grunted, shoving his face further into his pillow. “Doesn’t even open ‘til ten.”

Victor came to the side of the bed, reaching for the covers. “Nine. Our advance tickets are for ten. It’s nine fifteen now.” Pulling on the covers, Victor left Yuri curled around his pillow in his boxers, lifting his head to cast a mutinous glare Victor’s way. 

“ _Five more minutes_ — are you naked and wearing an apron?” Yuri’s grumbling tapered off into his squinting at the figure of his fiance. Victor dropped the comforter back on the bed, throwing his arms wide open with a smile.

“Yes!”

It was absurd and also unfair that Yuri had stumbled into this knowledge while his glasses were a whole half-bed away. He let go of the pillow as he sat up, still squinting in Victor’s direction. “But why?”

Victor’s arms fell down, his pout audible in his voice even while Yuri more or less could make out the expression on Victor’s face. “Here I am making you breakfast while you’re sleeping in… why are you wearing an apron, he asks? So mean, Yuri. No one likes getting burned!”

Yuri shook his head, holding up his hands to wave off Victor’s latest bout of silliness, finding his hands being caught by Victor as he kneeled on the bed. “No, no, that’s not what I mean! Why were you cooking at all when you weren’t — dressed?” His voice gained a new level of confusion as Victor smiled, squeezing Yuri’s hands and leaning back, tugging him forward. 

“I was hoping you’d wake up early enough to admire the view. Come! Breakfast will get cold.”

Yuri walked on his knees to the edge of the bed, slamming forward against Victor’s chest as he was unceremoniously whisked forward and up into Victor’s arms. His lover stumbled and caught himself, Yuri yelping in surprise and clinging to him while trying to secure his own footing. “Victor!”

“Yuri,” he replied, leaning in to press a kiss to Yuri’s cheek. 

Yuri breathed out in a sigh, patting Victor’s back with one hand. He straightened up, the material of the apron bunching up as he stuck close to Victor’s front. “Do you ever believe in sleeping in?”

“Only every competition day,” Victor said, lips curving up into a softer smile. Yuri found his initial grumpiness vaguely soothed over, though not exactly banished. It was still a relatively rude awakening. 

Grunting in acknowledgement of a statement that was more or less true, he hooked his chin over Victor’s shoulder. He craned his head enough to almost get a look down Victor’s backside, hands sliding down from where they’d been gripping above the line of his tied apron strings. This was technically rewarding Victor, wasn’t it? He wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing, but as his hands pressed over the curve of Victor’s ass, Yuri was undecided as to if he cared or not at this hour of the morning. He still had to finish waking up, and the terror of letting down a figure skating _god_ had faded into a general terror of letting down his coach, love, and fellow competitor.

It didn’t have the nasty edge of his own desperate fear of losing him or driving him away as it used to, for various reasons. There were plenty of things Yuri still worried over, rationally or irrationally, but Victor leaving, permanently, wasn’t one of them.

“Nice view,” he concluded, giving Victor’s cheeks a soft pap, provoking a gasp and a delighted:

“Wow, Yuri!” Victor’s laughter was a pleasant accompaniment to the fierce, happy hug he was pulled into, Victor pressing his face against Yuri’s hair. “I knew you’d like the apron.”

“Yes. It’s definitely the apron I was talking about.”

Letting go with a wink once Victor had a clear view of Yuri’s face, he turned on heel, bare ass flashing as he padded his way back out toward the kitchen. “We’re set up at the dining table instead of the narrow seats at the window counter.”

He wished he had his glasses on for the nth time that morning, watching Victor walk away. Was he sauntering? Victor had to be sauntering. Yuri was definitely watching him saunter away, not sashay. Could Victor sashay?

Collecting his glasses in the midst of his internal dilemma over words he was only half sure he presently understood in English, hooking them over his ears and heading for the bathroom. When he made it out to the main room, Victor was setting down a mug of tea.

“Black,” he said by way of explanation, cream and sugar out on the table for his own tea. Still wearing the apron, patterned with Eiffel Towers and poodles, oddly appropriate given Makkachin, Victor pulled out Yuri’s chair, gesturing for him to take a seat. Yuri paused, shaking his head with the beginnings of a smile on his lips. He didn’t get it, but Victor’s mood seemed to be more… _something_ today.

“Thank you.”

Victor’s arms wrapped around him from the back of the chair, head dropping down to the level of Yuri’s ear. “ _De rien_.” He pouted, turning his gaze to the side of Yuri’s face. “I don’t get a kiss?”

“I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet,” Yuri said, turning his head and pressing a kiss to the tip of Victor’s nose. Victor’s lips quirked up even as he tried to wrinkle his nose, to limited success.

“Hmm… Good point. Kissing will continue after breakfast.” Victor gave a last squeeze of Yuri’s shoulders before slipping away, sidling around to sit down at the table next to him. 

Yuri gave him a dry look, reaching for his fork and regarding it dubiously. Really, talk about senseless utensils. He’d finally gotten the knack for pinning things down on its tines when he’d been leaving Detroit, but it didn’t feel as natural as _hashi_ in hand. When he actually processed what he saw on the plate, he gave up and set the fork to the side.

“Scrambled eggs on toast? They look… wetter than usual?” He looked over at Victor, wondering what he was missing.

Victor had his toast in hand, sprig of parsley over the spread of eggs and chives looking positively festive. “Cream and chives. More like a spread than most scrambled eggs. Try it!” He held out his own toast, inviting Yuri to take a bite.

Yuri hesitated the moment it took to flick his eyes down to his own untouched toast and egg combination, leaning forward and taking a careful bite out of Victor’s toast as prompted. Victor’s hand hovered under his chin, Yuri’s hand hovering below the line of Victor’s, catching the few stray crumbs that fell. The eggs managed to stay on the toast against the odds.

Victor’s expectant look was met with Yuri bringing his hand up to his face, resting the tip of his index finger against his chin as he chewed. It was a knowing callback to Victor’s own poses when considering some new information, the rest of his fingers folded over, thumb jutting out to the side. Yuri let the silence stretch out until he swallowed, shifting his gaze to meet Victor’s look.

Then he winked. “Wow! Amazing!” With more levity, he continued talking. “I didn’t expect they’d taste that different. You said it was just cream and chives?”

Surprised at the wink, then amused at the rest of Yuri’s fairly accurate imitation of Victor, he could only nod his head and laugh. “Cream and chives and careful attention. You can’t hurry French cuisine. I heard that on the internet once.” His smile following that statement belied the probable source.

“The internet. I’ve heard of that before.” Yuri mused, picking up his own toast and holding it out to Victor. One shared bite deserved another in turn, but he had to admit part of the appeal was the way Victor’s eyes lit up and he scooted his chair closer, leaning in and taking a bite. The fact Yuri mimed the same bite was automatic, unthought; Victor noted, smiling as he chewed and swallowed.

“Thanks. Are you sure you’re up to date on it? You have an Instagram, but all I ever see is you mysteriously liking photographs or scrolling through your feed first thing in the morning.”

“I _knew_ I’d forgotten to do something,” Yuri said, bringing his toast up to his mouth, digging in. He mostly used his Instagram to help promote his appearances in public as related to the competitions he was in, though he supposed he’d have benefited from doing the same for the last ice show he was in. 

Victor had been not so subtly encouraging Yuri to do just that, though to his mild bemusement, more of Yuri’s fans were getting vocal in his own Instagram as he posted more and more photographs of the two of them. Picking his eggs over toast, he bit in, sitting happily nude but for the apron proudly displaying poodles alongside a Parisian monument.

Yuri managed a quick shower after breakfast, Victor capitalising on kisses in exchange for handling dishes while Yuri dashed through getting ready. He was rubbing his hair dry as he stepped back out of the bathroom, near walking into the nude vision that was Victor languidly finishing his stretches by the bed. It was more of a struggle than he anticipated to focus on dressing instead of watching _Victor_ dress. At least his luggage should be arriving sometime today. He’d managed to get that clarified with the airline late last night, after Victor had already drifted off to sleep.

He had mixed feelings about it, finding something enjoyable in wearing Victor’s clothes, for all they were a little looser than what Yuri generally wore. It helped that Victor kept looking at him with that extra spark of awareness in his eyes. Yuri was getting rather fond of that look, along with the extra heat in Victor’s kisses when Yuri pulled him into them.

Biking toward the Louvre took less than the twenty minutes they’d been cycling to get to Notre Dame de Paris the day before, but finding where to leave their bicycles locked up was less straightforward. The sheer size of the park and grounds, let alone the several story high museum, made the prospect somewhat more daunting. Yuri didn’t feel all that bothered by it, surprisingly.

What he did find overwhelming was the prospect of attempting to tackle the entirety of the museum in one day. He gave Victor a helpless look as they wandered through the park, Victor claiming he was enjoying the sunshine. Yuri mostly wondered when Victor was going to need to reapply the sunscreen he’d had to slather on in preparation for another day outside.

“Are we really attempting to see everything in a matter of hours? We’ll be here all day.” Not the worst prospect, but Yuri wasn’t sure how much energy he had to be looking through a museum the whole day through. If there were anything he was particularly interested in, that might have been different, but as it stood…

Victor laughed, shaking his head. “Not unless you want to try. Did you?” He tugged Yuri closer when he shook his head, indicating his lack of interest in turning the whole of their day into an extended session of likely getting lost in the exhibits. “I thought you might want to see the Mona Lisa for the fun of it, then we could look at some of the classic statues or anything else that seems interesting.”

He pulled out his phone, tapping through to an app icon. “They’ve got a self guided audio tour.”

“Huh. Map included?”

Victor shook his head, opening up his PDF reader, bringing up a copy of the museum layout. “Had to download that separately.” Arm still slung around Yuri’s waist, Victor nodded his head toward the glass pyramid in the distance. “Ready to head in? We’re in the time slot for our tickets.”

Yuri made a noise of assent in the back of his throat, regarding the pyramid with curiosity as they trekked toward it, through the crowds. Victor mentioned something about picking tickets up from the information desk. Yuri nodded, honestly not paying attention. He tuned in again as they moved with and through the lines of people waiting for entrance, responding offhand to suggestions Victor was making after consulting his phone.

“They have a mirror themed exhibit,” Victor said, keeping his expression almost neutral. They mischief in his eyes was easy enough for Yuri to see when he looked back to Victor, ceasing his study of the glass and steel pyramid from the escalator they were on, descending into the underground lobby.

“Oh?” It was an interesting theme, he supposed, though he had no idea how many works of art actually incorporated mirrors. Enough for an exhibit, he supposed. So why was Victor giving him that look?

Yuri felt his cheeks pinking as he realised what Victor was referencing. “ _Victor_ ,” he hissed, tugging on Victor’s shirt and giving him a distressed look. He wouldn’t start talking about details right _here_ , would he? They were surrounded by a crowd, and while he logically knew no one would care and no one had identified them as Victor Nikiforov and That Other Guy yet, but he was still looking around, half expecting looks of disapproval from the tourists likewise filing down into the basement lobby. “Don’t you dare!”

The moue of Victor’s lips tugged at Yuri’s heartstrings, doing nothing to alleviate the sudden spike of irrational, panicked worry. He lifted a hand, about to deny any mirror allegations, only to find Victor ducking his head in close, talking in a low murmur by his ear.

“Don’t I dare admit that I’ll find the collection lacking? It’s true, you know. I don’t think there’s any work of art on display here that comes even close to being half as compelling as last night. You were amazing.” Sincere words, Victor’s expression warm, eyes softening as he studied Yuri’s face. The blush that had started out as a dusting of pink across his cheeks was now in full force, staining his cheeks, his nose, creeping down his neck. He could _feel_ it happening.

His logical recourse was to tug Victor forward, winding them through the crowds ts toward one of the terminal-like offshoots leading up into the main museum proper. Victor laughed, taking the exchange of their arms slung around each other’s waists for the hand holding Yuri had initiated, tugging Victor along up stairs and toward one of many halls. 

“Which way is the Mona Lisa?” he asked, knowing Victor had been reviewing the information.

Not that it turned out to be helpful. Victor glanced down the hall, seeing a larger group of people trailing in one direction. “Wherever there’s a bigger group of people moving through?” He pulled his phone back out of his pocket, trying to unlock it with one hand. “Let’s see, the app said… ah-hah! We need to go up a floor and locate the Denon wing. She’s in room six.”

Paintings with what sounded like apartment addresses. Yuri brought them to a stop so Victor could bring up the PDF map, getting them back on track. The sheer impressive size of the Louvre made itself known from the immensity of the rooms and halls; unified only in space and the sense of grandeur that each different room brought to the forefront.

Little icons indicated the way toward the Mona Lisa even if they’d thought they were lost, Victor and Yuri slowing down in turns as they grew curious enough to divert off into the rooms they were otherwise passing. The collection of bronze objects was fascinating to pass through, the brilliant blue ceiling with its Grecian names and discs of various colours. The sheer vibrancy drew Victor’s eyes, Yuri not long after. Surprising how those details, the touch of a modern artist in a room devoted to bronze artifacts from a far different time, could leap out and hold their attention.

“Beautiful,” Yuri said, feeling like that particular blue reminded him of something. He couldn’t pick it out as they moved around the room, peering into glass sided cases at the carefully displayed contents, lit against the white bases of each case. Full sized statues were nestled in alcoves against the walls; such as a man in bronze, the detail in his construction intricate and well crafted.

It was not, however, terribly engaging for either of them past a cursory look. Victor slipped his hand into Yuri’s as they headed back into the connecting hallways, following the icons of the Mona Lisa around to her room, shared with dozens upon dozens of paintings from the same period of Italian history. The room itself was half full of people, most gathered toward the center around the floating island of wall in which the Mona Lisa painting hung, suspended behind glass.

Victor and Yuri observed the painting from the back of the crowd, overhearing some of the chatter from another visitor, how this was less crowded than he expected. They exchanged looks, eyebrows quirking up. There was a draw in names and image, they both knew that. Victor knew it exceedingly well.

“She’s… smaller than I was expecting.” Yuri found himself casting a baffled look toward the painting itself, smaller than many of the other paintings hanging in the room. Looking even smaller with all the blank wall space left overhead and to each side.

“Did you want to try and get closer?”

Yuri tilted his head to the side, getting a slightly better look around the upthrust hand with a camera phone aimed at the painting. “We could probably take a photo of her from here?” Suggesting an alternative without having to give a firm no. He turned to study Victor’s face, hunting for any sign of his fiance minding one way or the other.

What he found was Victor smiling faintly from behind the screen of his fingers, each tip resting lightly against his lips. His other hand was at his elbow, thoughts whirling through his mind in a silly manner; the smile he turned on Yuri after a moment was amused. “Think we can get a selfie with her in the background?”

Yuri glanced back toward the painting on the wall, studying the crowd. Then he grinned.

“Phichit would say yes.”

Victor nodded, expression momentarily solemn. “He’s a master of selfies. We’ll have to do our best to try and make him proud.” He winked, turning around and switching his phone into selfie mode, holding it up to see what angle he could get on the painting. It was there in the backdrop, visible over the shallow sea of heads separating them from the cordoned off area directly in front of the painting. Yuri stepped in to stand at Victor’s side when he was gestured close, watching as Victor moved the camera around, looking for the best angle.

They were both smiling for the photograph, holding up their fingers in vees for victory, or perhaps as peace signs. Victor was happy with either, equally happy with the photograph and their over-shoulder photobomber, the Mona Lisa. “Yuri, she’s _perfect_.”

By mutual decision, they left the room after studying the paintings closer to the door. The sheer size of the museum intruded once more, Victor swinging Yuri’s hand gently between them as they walked toward the stairs, heading down to the ground floor. Victor wanted to look into the statue rooms, curious.

An hour, maybe two passed as they wandered through galleries and rooms on the ground level. It was after they located the Tactile Gallery, populated by replicas of famous art that was _meant_ for touching, that Yuri decided he’d had enough for the day. “Did we have lunch plans for after this, or were we going to head back to the flat?”

Victor shifted closer, slinging his arm around the top of Yuri’s hips. “Depends on what you wanted to eat. We’re close to the part of the city where we can find Japanese cuisine. We can head that way, see if anything grabs our interest?”

“Maybe even find something to take with us,” Yuri said with a wistful sigh, leaning into Victor’s one-armed embrace. “You wouldn’t mind?”

Victor leaned in to press a kiss to Yuri’s hair, brief and sweet. “I happen to like Japanese cuisine.” He smiled, hand skimming down off Yuri’s hip to pass over the curve of his buttocks. Yuri tensed, surprised, lips parting as he stared wide eyed up at Victor.

It was too tempting, Victor dipping his head down to press a brief kiss to Yuri’s lips, wishing it didn’t need to be brief. 

“What was that for?” Yuri asked once he remembered to speak, cheeks aflame once more. Victor kept catching him off-guard, even more affectionate and hands on than he’d been for the entirety of his coaching career thus far.

Victor’s look was one of wam amusement. “We’re by the Tactile Gallery. It felt right to be honouring its intent.”

Yuri was less impressed, giving Victor a look of dry disbelief that didn’t last all that long. He could believe that all too easily, even if he hadn’t been the intended recipient. Still, face still hot from his earlier embarrassment, Yuri flashed Victor a smile. Airy, almost, or as airy as he could fake it.

It turned challenging within a moment as Yuri squared up against Victor’s hip. “They mean for the statues, Victor. You’re amazing, but you’re not made out of stone.” Casually, Yuri stepped closer, one hand brushing over the material covering Victor’s thigh. Sliding upward and inward, blocking off the line of view with his body. “Even if you have a remarkable tendency to rise to every occasion.”

Victor was still smiling, eyes alight with a different kind of intense curiosity, a blush starting to pink his cheeks in spite of himself. Yuri was having more moments of incredible boldness, for all he tended to backslide or need to shake off his own forwardness in the aftermath. Now here he was caressing Victor’s inner thigh in passing at the Louvre, stepping around Victor and heading down the way toward an exit with Victor left momentarily stunned behind him.

He spun on heel, stepping fast after Yuri to catch up, seeing a hint of a sly smile on his lips as he reached for his hand. The blush hadn’t faded from Yuri’s face, but he seemed almost satisfied, as if having a response to Victor’s teasing have him a temporary bolster in confidence.

It was delightful. Maybe not sustainable, but wonderful to see.

They decided on exploring the streets beyond the Louvre on foot, leaving their bicycles chained where they should, in theory, not be stolen. 

Wandering the streets under the sporadic cover of trees and awnings was delightful in and of itself. Spending time with Yuri without anything pressing down on them, only the prospect of food and light window-shopping as they strolled along. They talked about inconsequential things, the statues they’d seen at the museum, other museum’s they’d visited, what had stood out in these other places. Yuri mentioned what he’d been told about Detroit and its surprising number of museums, but he’d only been to one, required for a course he was taking at the time.

Victor kept track of the restaurants they passed, noting Yuri’s level of interest and reaction when he read each menu. Whatever Yuri was searching for had yet to be found, until he came to a stop, eyes lighting up with the success of having found… something. Displayed food in a shop window?

Apparently so, with Yuri asking if they could go in _here_. He made a beeline toward the bentos, scanning the ingredients and talking with one of the women working at the counter after she spoke up, addressing him in Japanese. Victor held quiet, watching Yuri as he asked for clarifications, nodding his head as the woman responded in detail. Turning back to Victor, he smiled, excited by the prospect of whatever they were getting.

“Do we want to eat in here or take our bento along with us?”

A thoughtful look around the room left Victor tucking his hands into his pockets. “Why not take it with us? We can find someplace nice to eat, like an impromptu picnic.” Their second in as many days, with very different meals provided. It was nice, reminding him some of their time in Hasetsu the year before. Less so their time spent there most recently, filled with a certain hectic energy that was only starting to bleed out now.

Victor ordered the _tonkatsu_ , already resigned to finding it wanting compared to the fried cutlets made by Hiroko, but figuring it was worth the comparison. Yuri eschewed it entirely, opting for the _hambaagu_. Once their bentos had been served up, plastic covers slipped into place, they paid for their meals, grabbing two bottles of green tea on the way out.

They stumbled across a square a few blocks away, replete with trees around its border, green grass growing around the impressive, beautifully sculpted fountain in the center of it all. People hung around, casual, some eating, some chatting, others looking at their phones while leaning back against the fountain, or the base of one of the covering trees.

Finding a space to seat themselves under the dappled shade underneath the trees, they opened their bentos, breaking apart the cheaper takeaway _hashi_ that’d come with the bento boxes themselves. Yuri seemed happy once he started eating, Victor reminding himself one week off diet wasn’t going to irreparably damage either one of them. (Especially not himself.) He didn’t want to spoil Yuri’s present enjoyments with reminders of his need for high levels of activity to keep his calorie hoarding body from putting on too much weight.

So he held his tongue, feeding Yuri some of his surprisingly decent _tonkatsu_ , Yuri being less impressed, loyal to his mother’s cooking no matter where was win the world. It was sweet, a kind of knee jerk and believable response that Victor loved. Yuri and his family, the support of his town, all those bonds that defined and outlined his life… Victor loved all of it.

He lay down, settling his head in Yuri’s lap after they’d finished eating, gesturing toward the fountain as a distraction. Yuri’s hands hovered awkwardly over Victor’s head, slowly lowering to settle on his hair. “The women probably are a symbol for something, but I’m don’t know what. Look, do you see the mosaics between each of those heads spouting water?”

Yuri wanted to hold his breath, the feeling of Victor’s silk hair under his hand powerfully provocative. He carded his fingers through it, brushing it back away from Victor’s face. A beat late, he even answer Victor’s question, glancing up as his hand continued petting over his hair.

“Yes, I see them. Do you recognise what they’re supposed to represent?”

Victor made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, flicking his fingers as if to dismiss the lack of recognition. Instead, he shifted his focus, looking up and smiling with a simple pleasure.

“When was the last time you went cloudwatching?”

“Mm, three years, four years ago, maybe? When would I have the time for something like that?” He breathed out long and slow, laughing as he let his lips pull up at the corners. “Why? Are you going to propose we go cloudwatching?”

Victor grunted, sliding his head out of Yuri’s lap only to tug Yuri back down with him. “Right here, right now. So we have time to properly digest.” He added, sounding matter of fact. Yuri smiled, rearranging himself to lay comfortably at Victor’s side, facing the same direction: up.

They passed the early to late afternoon that way; naming shapes in clouds that had nothing to do with anything; walking around again simply to be moving, passing cafes and restaurants and small stores, even art galleries as they meandered back toward the Louvre.

Yuri felt the lassitude strike after they biked back to their rented flat, rubbing his hands over his face with a small, contained sigh. A note on their door indicated that their host had their luggage; it’d been dropped off by the airline while they’d been out for the day. Yuri smiled, yawning as he tried to tell Victor they should pick up his luggage from their host family as soon as possible.

“Tired?” Victor rested a hand over Yuri’s shoulder, more amused than concerned. 

“I shouldn’t be, we haven’t done that much.” He stifled another yawn, unable to deny the fact he _was_ tired in the moment. “We should get my luggage before it starts getting late.”

Victor gently ushered Yuri back toward the bedroom, hands firm on his shoulders as he walked him to the bed. “Nap,” he said, nodding his head toward the pillows and half folded down comforter. “I’ve texted our host already. I’ll pick up your luggage, all right? Take it easy. We still have dinner reservations for _Le Jules Verne_ tonight. Unless you’d prefer we stay in?”

Yuri stared down at the pillows, fighting off the overwhelming urge to faceplant into them and curl up and sleep _right now_. “I want to go. That’s the restaurant up in the Eiffel Tower, isn’t it?”

At Victor’s nod, Yuri nodded to himself in turn. “Okay… okay, if you can pick up my luggage, I’ll… take a short nap. A small one.”

Victor patted him on his shoulder, leaning in to kiss his cheek before he moved around the end of the bed to close the curtains, cutting off the afternoon sunlight. Yuri crawled into the bed, sighing in relief as he flopped his head down onto the pillows. His glasses lay on the mattress in easy reach.

“Sleep well,” said Victor, coming back around the far side of the bed to carefully tug the blankets up and over Yuri’s shoulder line. He tucked him in, Yuri cracking open an eye to watch and mumble a thank you. Victor smoothed a hand over his mess of bangs, smiling to himself. How was it possible for one man to survive with his heart feeling so full? Feeling in turn an echo of what Yuri must surely be experiencing as well.

Victor didn’t know. He accepted it as it was, holding on tight to that feeling. Just as he held on tightly to the man responsible for helping wake Victor up, to learning about and claiming the life and love he’d allowed to stay in the backdrop for the last twenty years of his life.

Arranging to pick up that man’s luggage from their host after it’d flown more miles than either of them had so far this trip? Victor would do far more without being asked. So when his phone flashed with a text received, he smiled. Yuri would be happy when he woke up from his nap.

* * *

Yuri woke up feeling refreshed, blinking off the dregs of sleep and scooting out of bed, on his feet and stretching in record time. He stopped when his brain caught up with processing the odd sight his eyes had alighted on: beaming, he strode forward to claim his errant luggage.

“Victor, thank you! Ah, it’s so nice to have all my things back.” Setting the suitcase down on its side, he unzipped it and dug around for a change in underwear, another pair of pants, and a nice shirt. 

Victor walked back by the bathroom as Yuri was walking into it, carrying his change of clothes. 

“How long do we have before our reservations?”

Victor leaned against the doorframe, head canted to the side. “Three hours or so. Plenty of time for everything.”

Yuri nodded, bouncing up onto the balls of his feet as he draped his clothing out over the towel rack. When he looked back over his shoulder at Victor, he grinned. “For everything, huh?”

Victor smiled back, half closing his eyes to regard Yuri through his lashes. “Everything.” Looking past Yuri into the shower, Victor hummed. “Want help washing your back?”

It was on the tip of Yuri’s tongue to say no, not thinking about it. He opened his mouth to say exactly that, then he paused. He turned back toward Victor, studying his expression. The way he was being watched through lowered lashes.

He was surprised every time he really _understood_ that Victor found him attractive. Moments like these, with the invitation left open between them, helps drive it home. As much as Yuri wants Victor, as much as he finds him attractive, Victor finds him attractive in turn.

It’s heady, in a pleasant way. New and still strange territory for him to be exploring, but he wasn’t frightened at the prospect. Not when Victor was there every step of the way, understanding and challenging in turns. Meeting Yuri where he was at.

 _Three hours._ More than enough time, he concludes, to see about a little further exploration, a little more of the shape of Victor. Yuri slowly raised his arms over his head, folding them at the elbows. A line of skin around the top of his pants showed; a shifting forbidden zone, and inexorably, where Victor’s eyes were drawn. Slowly they traveled back over the planes of Yuri’s chest, more or less visible in spite of his borrowed shirt.

“I would. Though I seem to be having trouble with getting undressed on my own. Would you…?”

He didn’t have to finish asking. Victor bridged the distance between them, hands finding the bottom hem of Yuri’s shirt as they both laughed, soft and happy. In a smooth motion, Victor lifted up, pulling the shirt over Yuri’s head, then off his arms. Victor didn’t toss it away, instead half folding it and setting it on the counter. Easy when the counter was right there, in reach; as easy as the way Victor stepped forward and leaned in, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to Yuri’s lips as his hands skimmed over the top of his pants.

Victor undid Yuri’s fly, hooking his fingers over both waistbands: pants and underwear. He slowly started working them down off Yuri’s thighs, sinking down to a crouch as he guided the material down Yuri’s legs. He was kneeling, looking up at Yuri as if the whole of his world and everything he wanted within it was standing there before him.

Yuri swallowed, warmth flooding his chest with a surge of such overwhelming affection, his eyes felt hot, prickling. As if he were close to crying, and for what? Love? He swallowed the lump of emotions so suddenly stirred up back down, feeling himself break into gooseflesh as Victor leaned forward, pressing a kiss above Yuri’s knee.

“Step up,” Victor asked, and Yuri obliged, one foot at a time, until he was standing naked in front of a still clothed Victor. Delightful, in some ways; but also dissatisfying. Yuri wanted to be able to _feel_ Victor, even if he didn’t intend on doing anything more than pressing up close, skin to skin. The reassurance in that action felt important.

Yuri held his hands out to Victor, helping draw him back up to his feet. He stepped into Victor’s embrace, tipping his head back to kiss him, slow and unhurried. As unhurried, his hands pressed against Victor’s chest, tracing contours and outlines through the material of his shirt. All the while heading lower, until he found the end of Victor’s shirt, slipping his hands up underneath to press against the warmth of Victor’s abdomen.

“Looks like I’m not the only one having trouble getting undressed,” he murmured against Victor’s lips, drawing a laugh out of him. Yuri took that as permission, edging Victor’s shirt higher, Victor obliging by moving his arms overhead to make the process easier.

Yuri didn’t want to resist the urge to lean in and press a kiss to Victor’s collarbone. Not just one kiss, but many warm little kisses as his hands fumbled with the button of Victor’s trousers, working it loose and tugging down on the zipper. As he knelt, pulling Victor’s pants and damnably tiny black underwear along with. Victor stepped out of each pant leg, one at a time, with Yuri leaning in to press a kiss to the skin above first his left knee, then his right.

This time, Victor helped Yuri to stand, drawing him flush against his chest and winding his arms around his shoulders. They kissed as before, sweet and lingering, lips parting in mutual invitation. 

Their progress toward the shower was as unhurried as their kisses, Victor opening the door with one hand, Yuri guided them through with his opposite hand. The short stool they’d been using to pre rinse and shampoo hair bumped against Victor’s ankle, a reminder. He smiled against Yuri’s mouth, pulling back just to say, “Let’s me get your back first.”

Yuri laughed, breathy and incredulous, but he still sat, taking advantage of the request to run his hands down over Victor’s sides. He was left sitting facing the wrong direction, on a level with Victor’s crotch, unintentionally.

Victor crouched down with him, reaching past Yuri’s shoulder to turn on the faucet. Cooler water hit as a burst, provoking a gasp and curse out of both young men, the water swinging toward a bearable kind of warm, without getting too hot.

With his knees on the tile floor, he leaned in, kissing Yuri as water cascaded over his shoulders, dripping down his chest. When Yuri was completely wet, Victor brought the showerhead toward Yuri’s hair, carefully massaging his scalp as he wet down his hair.

Yuri found the whole process relaxing, closing his eyes as Victor gave his one hand scalp massage. When Victor paused to squeeze a dollop of the faintly cinnamon-vanilla scent into a loofa, Yuri wanted to complain. Instead, he breathed out in a happy sigh as Victor started soaping him up, working in circular motions to lather all of Yuri’s skin, neck to toes.

Victor took his time, one hand moving in maddening circles, the other stroking down Yuri’s arm, his side. Any point of contact that helped keep Victor balanced as he worked, any excuse for touch, and Victor was sure to take it.

It was intimate, bathing like this. He wanted to lean into Victor’s ministrations, and did, when it was feasible. He claimed kisses right in return, reaching out to pull Victor into a longer kiss, letting go again to allow him room to move. When Victor pulled down the showerhead again to rinse Yuri off, Yuri figured that was it. He’d get dressed, Victor would get dressed, they’d entertain themselves for a few hours, and then they’d go to dinner in the Eiffel Tower.

Yet when Victor set the showerhead back in its cradle, he didn’t step away, or gesture for Yuri to step up and out of the shower. He held his hands out to Yuri, helping him stand, holding on for long enough to ensure his lover was steady. 

Then he coaxed him forward, to the bench proper under another showerhead. Victor twisted the knobs on the perpendicular wall, sending warm water cascading out of the showerhead over Yuris’ head. Yelping, Yuri stood up in his surprise, crashing into Victor’s arms as he started to slip on the slick tile.

“Woah, careful!” Victor laughed, Yuri clutching his arms and wheezing his own laughter a moment later. 

“You could have warned me about that, Victor!” There was a huff of affront there, but Yuri knew this wasn’t a grudge he’d be remembering. Much.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Here, I promise, no more sudden jets of water.” He flashed Yuri one of his winning smiles, only with enough warmth behind it that it was genuine.

Dubious, Yuri sat back on the bench, feeling the appreciable warmth of the water raining down on his back. Victor by contrast looked more chilled; damp but not drying off, and not staying warm. “Aren’t you cold?”

Victor shook his head, kneeling at Yuri’s feat. He reached out, stroking two fingers up from the inside of Yuri’s ankle, up toward his knee. “I’m warm. Watching you, touching you like this… I’m warm. More than warm. Hot.” He let his eyes travel over Yuri’s naked body, from the healing bruises and contusions on Yuri’s feet, to the definition of his leg muscles, his stomach, his chest. “Burning, really.”

His eyes found Yuri’s, locking gazes as the water cascaded down across his back. “Yuri,” he asked. “I want to kiss you. Everywhere. I want to take you in my mouth. I want to bring you to the brink of orgasm, and then push you over. I’d like to do all of that to you right now.” He reached up, pushing his partially damp bangs off his forehead. He fixed Yuri with his gaze. “May I?”

Yuri could feel himself getting increasingly more flushed, and on top of that, increasingly more turned on. It wasn’t the first time Victor had told him he wanted to blow him, and it was far from the only time Victor had said he wanted to kiss. Yet the sight of Victor kneeling like he was, the tender caresses he kept lavishing to Yuri’s legs, the pleasant reality that it was Yuri who had the ability to call any of this off, if it was too much, if it wasn’t enough, if he wasn’t feeling okay…

He lifted his foot, pressing it against Victor’s chest, uncertain of his own actions. “Yes, Victor. You may.” 

Victor groaned, cradling Yuri’s foot and holding it up, supported, so he could kiss the inside of his arch. “We treat our feet so harshly, don’t we? Every bruise, every blister, every cut…” Victor pressed a kiss over each of these he could find on Yuri’s foot, gently setting it down in his lap when he could find no others. Lifting Yuri’s other foot, he did the same: kissing his arch, then pressing his lips down gently over each bruise, blister, and contusion. 

The tenderness of it all squeezed Yuri’s heart, leaving him wanting to hold his arms out to Victor. Wanting to hug Victor, to say a hundred thank yous, to give a hundred apologies. To weep with a joy so sharp it left him bleeding, some days. 

It was too much, in a way that Yuri hadn’t counted on, had never needed to factor in. He could feel the way he found this arousing, the focused attention from Victor Nikiforov a treat in and of itself. But in that moment, he needed him more in his arms, and so Yuri sat up straighter, opening his arms wide. Begging without words for Victor to come to him.

Victor hesitated, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Yuri, flushed, but holding out his arms in a silent entreaty.

It was enough. Victor moved forward, perching awkwardly on the side of bench, pressing himself chest to chest with Yuri and hugging him tight. One hand cradled the back of Yuri’s head, Victor feeling faint stirrings of unease and concern. “I’m here, Yuri. I’m here. What’s going on?”

Yuri shook his head. He blinked away the tears that threatened, the joy humming through him losing that sharpness with the press of Victor against him. Diffuse, it was a wonderful emotion. “I just needed this. For a little while.” 

He tucked his head in against Victor’s neck. The water falling down over both of them kept them warm and wet, technically both good things. Yuri pulled his head back as he felt better, Victor studying his face and reaching up to cradle his cheek.

“Feeling better?”

Yuri nodded, finding it easier to smile now, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Victor’s. “Much better. I needed the contact,” he said, trying to explain what he barely understood himself. “I needed you.”

Victor’s eyes softened from their worried scrunching, pad of his thumb brushing over Yuri’s cheek. “You have me. I’m not going anywhere.” Then Victor kissed him, soft at first, then again, asking for more each time. Yuri responded, no hesitation. The overflow of painful joy had settled into a pleasant ache. He wanted this. He wanted to be touched by Victor, kissed by Victor, loved by Victor. He wanted to show Victor that Victor was as much a treasured person to Yuri as Victor made him feel we was to him.

This time, as the kissing grew heavier, Yuri was firmly caught up in the moment. Victor concentrated on working down from his neck toward the apex of his thighs, moving off the bench again to kneel between Yuri’s legs. He rose up, winding a hand around the back of Yuri’s neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

Victor took his time. With the shower running, Victor kissed trails over Yuri’s chest, sucking on skin in countless, pleasant little love bites. He swirled his tongue over Yuri’s nipples, suckling on them as the buds of his nipples stood erect. Each moan that slipped out was an encouragement, a sign of things going as they should. Victor murmured encouragements half swallowed by the stream of water from the showerhead. He let one hand rest lower, stroking down and over Yuri’s upper thigh, then stroking Yuri’s dick, encouraging his erection to grow.

When Victor finally found himself settled lower between Yuri’s thighs, he nuzzled against his inner thighs, lipping a trail toward his dick. Water wasn’t quite slick enough for all of this; he brought his tongue into play, licking up from the base of his shaft toward his head. Yuri kept himself from thrusting his hips forward at the unexpected intensity of the sensation; he didn’t understand why he felt it so much more right now. He didn’t care. Victor’s hot mouth closing over the head of his dick, taking in as much of it as he could, that felt incredible. The hand wrapped around the lower portion of his shaft stimulating him further, working in tandem with his mouth.

Yuri rolled his hips forward again, gasping out an _oh_ as Victor’s clever tongue rolled over a hyper-sensitive portion of his glans. He could feel how Victor’s hand kept Yuri from thrusting too far, and soon enough, Yuri didn’t care to note anything except the intensity of sensations rolling through him; the beautiful, attractive sight of his lover naked and on his knees. 

Victor coaxed Yuri along relentlessly, building in speed, murmuring loving sweet nothings in people’s ears. Yuri clung to the wooden bench with all his might, feet braced against the tile, Victor keeping Yuri’s legs spread as he bobbed his head up and down. Yuri was rolling his hips forward again and again, falling into the same rhythm Victor had set for the movement of his hand and the warmth of his mouth.

“ _Victor_ ,” was Yuri’s warning, but Victor didn’t pull his head away. He shifted his grip, one arm sliding around Yuri’s hips to hold him in place as his orgasm hit hard, body jerking physically as he came in spurts. He held him shuddering through it all, only pulling his mouth away to wipe at it with the back of his wrist, swallowing. He moved up to pull Yuri into his embrace again, stroking a hand down his back. Surreptitiously opening his mouth to catch the falling water from the shower and swallow that too. “Thank you, Yuri. You were wonderful.” Yuri hugged him back, squeezing as hard as he could presently manage. (It wasn’t hard at all.) “Do you want to shut off the shower and cuddle in bed for a while? We still have time before we have to head back out.”

Yuri swallowed, finding it almost harder to think now than it had been earlier. Still, it was appealing, curling up with Victor for a while and stalling on the rest of the world.

“This is just an excuse to get me naked in bed with you again, isn’t it?”

Victor chuckled, reaching out to start turning off the knobs. “Maybe. Is it going to work?”

“There’s a good chance it might.”

“Then we better find the towels.” The flow of water cut off fully, Yuri shivering in the sudden change in temperature. Without the constant flow of warm water, he was starting to feel a chill from the air conditioning. Victor helped him to his feet, keeping a hand on him the whole time, even when handing over his towel. It was like he especially didn’t want to let go of Yuri tonight.

Yuri found that reassuring. As they curled up around each other, wearing their robes and nothing else, Yuri found himself smiling, soft and warm and happy. “I love you.”

Victor’s blue eyes focused on his face, an equally small and open smile pulling his lips up at the corners. “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may end up doing big rewrites here later, I couldn't find anything I felt satisfied with for a good deal of this second half. Taps finger on chin, but here we go for now.


	5. toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Bastille Day, Victor and Yuri opt to avoid the crowds at the military parade, instead exploring the parks and man-made beaches in the banks of the Setine. Yuri braves asking Victor to help him experiment with a new toy, to mutually enjoyable results.

Pulling the kettle off the stove once the water was well on its way to boiling, Yuri set it aside, giving it a chance to cool before pouring over their tea. He’d volunteered to tackle breakfast last night, having found it surprisingly easy to wake up and shuffle through his morning ablution, or as Victor termed it, when Yuri “splashed water on [his] face and called it a day.”

Four days and he was feeling well rested, bright eyed and curious about their plans for the day. They’d talked about some possibilities before Victor had fallen asleep. Yuri’d ended up distracted between researching his own plans for the day after and watching Victor sleep, cuddled up against Yuri’s thigh as he was.

Yuri’d finished spooning rice into bowls when Victor joined him in the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Yuri’s waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. Yuri leaned back into his embrace, not enough to be off balance, but enough to be inviting.

“Looks good,” Victor said with a pleased hum, earning a snort from Yuri.

“Rice and instant miso?” 

It’d been more practical to grab the instant stuff while they’d been looking for lunch the day before, especially when Yuri had no idea how long they’d have been out and wandering around, but that didn’t mean he really preferred it. The one thing he was finding out about vacations was how impractical they were for things like meal planning and shopping. Or at least how it felt like a hassle to worry about anything more than a day or two’s worth of meals. 

“I see eggs, too!” Victor lifted his chin from Yuri’s shoulder, pressing against his back as he peered down toward the counter. “Eggs, rice, and miso. More tea?”

“Yeah. Still the black tea since I forgot to pick anything else up yesterday.” 

“ _Mmm._ ” Giving Yuri’s waist a squeeze, Victor pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Are we eating in here or in the big room?”

Yuri glanced down the length of the narrow kitchen, looking out the windows. The light was lovely this time of the morning, still early enough the heat of the coming day was a faint promise and memory. “In here? For the view, I thought.”

Victor gasped in playful offense. “Yuri, does that mean you don’t consider me a view?”

Setting down the bowl he’d been holding in his hands, he reached back up around to catch Victor’s head, turning his face to press a kiss against Victor’s lips. Not an easy angle, but nice nonetheless. “If there were only one sight I could see for the rest of my life, I’d live as a happy man if it were you. But the view of you up against the wall isn’t quite as compelling as sitting with you looking out over the city right now.”

“Yuuuri!” Victor said, drawing out the syllables of his name as he tightened his arms around his waist. Yuri wheezed, the sound abruptly cut off as Victor managed to kiss him again, soft lips against Yuri’s for what felt like a lifetime.

Time dilation was a fascinating occurrence, all things told. Yuri was surprised to find himself laughing when their kiss ended and Victor was nuzzling his neck, making that pleased, happy humming sound that Yuri loved.

“We’ll eat at the counter. Did you want me to crack the eggs?” Victor asked, lifting his head to speak by Yuri’s ear. 

“Ah, if you don’t mind? I was going to after I had the miso set out. The chopsticks from yesterday should be by the sink if you wanted to grab them.”

Victor made a noise of acknowledgement in the back of his throat. “I can do that. And Yuri?”

“Hm?”

“You should tell me more about this vision of me up against the wall sometime.”

It took Yuri a full five seconds before his brain figured out what that _probably_ meant. The delayed response set Victor laughing, Yuri blushing scarlet as he spun around, hands up. “ _Victor!_ ” His brain was filling in all sorts of images in a tumbling succession, Victor with his hair mussed, pinned against the wall with his arms looping over Yuri’s shoulders, shirt half undone if it was a button-up, hiked up with Yuri’s hand underneath if it wasn’t. Yuri didn’t find anything in this series of fast-hitting fantasies he _didn’t_ like. 

Victor may have guessed, tossing his head to get his bangs out of his face. Adding in a wink, he picked up the first egg, cracking it against the side of the bowl. “You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?” His grin only grew when Yuri spluttered and resolutely turned away, picking up the kettle and pouring water into their mugs.

“ _I have no idea what you’re talking about._ Were we planning anything specific for today?”

Victor threw him a knowing glance, rolling with the topic shift as easily as he cracked the second egg. Both shells made it into the trash bin located near the end of the counter. “It depends on what you want to do. It’s French National Day, so there’s different things happening because of that. Fireworks tonight, for one. A military parade near the _Arc de Triomphe_. What’s the name of that street…”

“ _Avenue des Champs-Élysées_?” Victor blinked at Yuri’s musing response, picking up the bowls of rice and egg.

“Sounds right. How did you know?”

Yuri reached over to pick up his phone, waving with it. “Looking up landmarks the last few weeks.”

Victor mouthed an _oh_ of understanding, lips quirking into a grin. “You’ve got a to-do list you haven’t told me about, Yuri! I don’t think the _Arc de Triomphe_ is accessible until this afternoon, but we can see about getting over there if you wanted.”

Yuri shook his head, carrying the mugs of tea over to the breakfast counter. Victor was more correct than he knew, for all that Yuri’s to-do list had nothing to do with the _Arc de Triomphe_. “No, or yes, we can? It could be fun. Are the crowds going to be bad today?”

Victor slipped in behind him, setting down the bowls of rice. He ran a hand over Yuri’s shoulder blades, lamentably noting to himself that Yuri was back in his own clothing. The return of his lover’s luggage was a _good_ thing, but it was also a somewhat specifically disappointing event. “My guess? Yes. I hadn’t thought to ask about that when I’ve been talking with locals the last few days.”

“Hm.” It was food for thought. Yuri glanced over his shoulder to where Victor had moved, picking up the bowls of miso to bring back to where they were sitting. Yuri pulled out one of the chairs, magnanimously gesturing for Victor to take a seat.

Grinning, Victor plopped himself down with an excess of grace, winking at Yuri in the process. “What a gentleman.” As Yuri took his own seat, Victor scooted his chair closer, reaching for the chopsticks. “Did you want to attend the parade?”

Yuri brought his bowl of rice close, picking up his _waribashi_ to start mixing the egg in. “Not particularly? If you want to go, I’m happy to go with you.”

They were talking in circles, Victor stirring his rice and egg together much like Yuri. “It might have been nice for the anonymity. I’m curious what the parade’s like, but I think it might be nicer to take advantage of being somewhere else while people are occupied with the parade.” By then, his rice was thoroughly coated. He brought a mouthful up, exclaiming happily over his first bite. “So good!”

Yuri looked down at his own rice, feeling a less severe blush steal over his cheeks. “It’s just rice,” he repeated, feeling like that didn’t merit a _so good_ as much as a _thank you_.

“ _Appreciated_ rice. Thank you for breakfast, Yuri.” Victor’s smile was good natured and less teasing than he’d been most the morning so far. 

“ _De rien_ ,” he mumbled, keeping his attention on his food. Not hard once he started eating. Even the rest of their meandering conversations were fine, plans made for a morning biking over to and walking along the Setine through one of the riverbank parks. Victor wanted to show him the man-made beaches installed for the summer months, and they guessed it would be slightly less hectic until the parade had ended.

Finishing up breakfast, Victor volunteering to take care of washing since Yuri had been in charge of making the meal, gave Yuri time for his own thoughts. The surprise that he had almost completely worked out for Victor, the distraction he felt at considering their more low-key plans for the day. He preferred this, less of a driving desire to be in any once place now, more relaxing in a way that had his core self losing some tension, breathing easier. 

Making some other things easier too. Yuri shuffled through his clothes, grateful again for the return of his luggage. There was something there he wanted to pull out just in case; when he found the book-sized gray travel case with its heart-shaped logo.

He held it in his hands, turning it over, worrying at his lower lip. Would it be too forward? Or too selfish? He didn’t know, and he couldn’t shake off the _thought_ that it might be either. But he could reality check as best he was able, deciding that if nothing else, it hurt no one to set things to charging.

Why not?

(Ignoring any of the plethora of reasons his mind provided entirely unasked.)

* * *

Victor found he watched Yuri’s face for his reactions as often as he looked around to take in the sights himself. There was an almost magical quality to the way Yuri processed and responded to things that struck at his heart; even his microexpressions had become more familiar to Victor, like learning the topography for a land that was home to his heart. 

“I still can’t believe they bring in all this sand for the summer. Then there’s the umbrellas, the sunbathing chairs, the…” Yuri petered out, forgoing words in order to make a general gesture around.

Victor smiled, linking his arm through Yuri’s as he started them walking through the scattered crowd. There were fewer sunbathers at the moment, but he could see the appeal in laying out alongside the Setine. “It’s fun,” he concluded. “Boat rentals and watersports are located somewhere else around here, too.” 

His statement was met by a slow nod from Yuri. They strolled on, arm in arm, families with smaller children biking by, others walking. Young couples, and older couples, could be found taking their leisure together; there was a low buzz of tension beneath everything, but most people had decided to put forth their best celebratory face.

It took two teenagers pointing upward to alert Victor and Yuri to the arrival of the the French air force jets, streaming trails of red and white and blue in the stripes of the French flag. Standing up against the railing by the river proper, they watched the trails of smoke fan out across the sky, the rolling thunder of the jets hitting then leaving again, as quickly as they’d come.

They resumed walking, falling into a companionable quiet interspersed with observations about their surroundings, a nod toward a series of wood planks bolted to the side of a wall to wonder over their function, a smiling gesture to the antics of a young child on the swings. 

When they found one of the small round umbrella covered tables, they claimed it, calling for a stop they didn’t really need. They sat next to each other, resting their arms on the table, holding hands. Victor kept stroking the pad of his thumb over the back of Yuri’s knuckles, lost in thought.

Their futures were a bright, blank canvas, with projected forms and possibilities, but nothing concrete. Victor would be stepping off the ice as a competitor permanently soon. He knew that; Yuri knew that. Everyone _knew_ that, but in a slow transition, Victor was no longer finding that dissatisfying. He’d stopped finding it so heavy when he’d been coaching Yuri, not in those first few months, though there was a reward in watching how Yuri tackled and pushed through his personal limitations. It was in the later months leading into the Grand Prix Final; when he’d made the mental shift from looking at other skaters first _as_ a competitor. When he started to see things first as what could be improved for the sake of _skating_ , for the real ideal he loved and believed in.

He lifted their hands, bringing them up to his mouth to press a kiss on the back of Yuri’s hand. “Marry me,” he said, turning his face toward Yuri. His expression was surprisingly focused, intent on this point.

Yuri lifted his eyebrows, laughing a little in confusion. “Victor, we’re already engaged?”

“I know. Marry me,” he repeated, bringing their hands to his cheek. He stayed like that, now gazing on Yuri with soft, affectionate eyes. 

“I will, I am. Once we figure out a date…”

“For the reception, not the legal ceremony.” Victor said lightly, giving a squeeze of Yuri’s hand. 

“Right, for the reception… why are we talking about this right now?”

Victor made a noncommittal sound, rubbing his cheek against their joined hands. “Because I want to marry you. It took three proposals from you that I said yes to, each time, before you finally believed me.” He affected a pout, knowing that it was just as true that early on, he’d sounded jocular; that he’d been continuing a jest he wanted to be true. “I felt it was worth repeating.”

“Ah, I… could stand to hear it a few more times,” Yuri admitted, smiling softly at Victor. 

Warmth of emotion and fondness for Victor transformed Yuri into someone heart-achingly beautiful to behold. Victor believed this entirely, just as he knew he was biased, but not _wrongly_ so. He pressed another kiss to Yuri’s hand, this time the heel of his palm, slow and lingering, watching Yuri. Yuri who blushed, but in the same way he’d blushed when he’d broached the topic of rings; when they’d agreed to engrave the inside curve of Yuri’s luck charms, adding another layer of formal meaning to them beyond what they already held. 

“A few more? Marry me, Katsuki Yuri. Marry me because you’re you, and I’m me, and everything I’ve come to appreciate in both life and love is because you showed me how. Marry me because I love you. Marry me because I have the cutest poodle. Marry me —”

Yuri laughed, blush more evident as he held up his free hand and shook his head. “Yes, yes, I will, but stop, please, Victor! I have to survive long enough to marry you, and this is no good. It’s making my heart too happy.”

His smile was a balm for Victor’s own heart in turn. He leaned in, stealing a kiss from Yuri’s lips, feeling Yuri lean toward him in turn. _Partners_ , Victor thought, turning the word and the idea of its concept over in his head. They were partners.

It was a thought that stayed warm in his chest when they resumed walking, stopping by a crepe stand and enjoying the walk after that point with fresh, hot crepes in hand. Victor held his own up for Yuri to sample; Yuri tried teasing Victor with his, and ended up getting nutella all over his hand. His first mistake had been trying to get fancy with his half-dance away from Victor, holding his crepe up high. His second mistake was accepting Victor’s offer to help clean him up.

In Yuri’s defense, he hadn’t expected Victor to _literally lick his hand clean_. Nor had his heart been prepared, for all that another part of his anatomy had taken a definite, stirring interest. It left him keyed up even by the time they’d worn themselves out biking back to their flat. Showers had been important for both of them, largely to feel refreshed, and now they were contemplating what to do with the greater portion of their afternoon.

Yuri stood in his robe, wringing his fingers together, staring down at the casing connected to the USB charger and converted plugged into the wall. Victor hadn’t said anything about it yet, or possibly hadn’t even noticed. Some things seemed to escape his fiance’s notice without much rhyme or reason.

Yuri made himself stop fidgeting, allowing one hand to fall back down to his side. The other hand curled into a loose fist over his breastbone while Yuri steadied out his breathing. He wanted to do this. He wanted to ask. Victor would listen. Victor would always be straightforward with him, which was reassuring, if not always kind.

He nodded, making his decision, reaching out for the case and pulling the charging cable off. He picked it up, going in search of Victor, only to find him lounging on the couch, browsing on his phone.

Victor looked up and smiled when he heard Yuri enter the room, only giving him a brief once over wondering why he was still only dressed in his robe.

His answer came near immediately, Yuri squaring his shoulders and licking his lips. He held out the double-zip case, bowing his head to Victor before speaking. “Victor, I, that is, you. I want to learn how to use this. With you.”

Which was how Victor Nikiforov found himself unzipping Yuri’s purchase of a luxury remote control prostate massager. “Wow, Yuri!” Victor felt absurdly touched, lifting the prostate massager free while looking up at Yuri. “Amazing.” It was the trust involved, the fact that Yuri was asking with a new toy, inviting Victor to be part of his experimentation process.

Not to mention there might be eventual promise with the whole remote control concept, but that was secondary. The primary was Yuri opening up in this, too, and Victor taking those steps forward to meet him happily, gladly, halfway.

* * *

Between prepping himself and dealing with cleaning himself out, Yuri wasn’t sure if it was anticipation or nerves or both building in his core. Victor had asked if he’d be more comfortable with Victor likewise being in the nude; in the end, he’d nodded his head yes. Now they were on the bed, the case open, Victor holding the bottle of water based lubricant and kneeling between Yuri’s thighs.

“The most important part is relaxing and communicating,” he said, smiling at Yuri reassuringly; he was serious. It didn’t mean he had to be frightening when he wanted instead to be support.

He had Yuri help spread lubricant over his anus, talking to him the whole time. Running one finger over his hole, reminding him to breathe, to relax. “Have you done much anal play before?”

Yuri shook his head, looking at Victor where he knelt. He was only laying back because it felt like it should be easier to relax. Thus far he’d been meeting that with debatable success. 

“I hadn’t really thought about it. Seemed like too much effort,” he said, offering a small shrug of his shoulders. He breathed in sharply as Victor’s finger rubbed a circle around his anus, clenching on reflex.

“Relax, Yuri. Anything we’re doing is going to go slow.” He paused, tipping his head to the side and wiggling a little closer. “Did you want to feel for your prostate first?

Yuri hesitated, torn between wants. Give Victor that control for him, based on his desire, or respond to the need to understand his body, this instrument he lived in and relied on. Eventually the latter won out and Yuri nodded, shifting as Victor tipped the lubricant bottle his way, offering more.

“Better too much right now than not enough,” he pointed out, leaning down to kiss Yuri’s knee. It was sensible enough thinking, and the simple logic of it was something Yuri could hold on to, sidestepping any embarrassment at the prospect of too much lubricant getting all over. They had a washing machine and a dryer. Cleanup would be fine, no matter how much was needed.

The anticipation was winning out over most his nerves, easier with Victor here and looking at him like he was something precious, someone desireable. Which he was to Victor, and that was all Yuri needed. With his lover’s encouragement, he focused on breathing and relaxing, playing over his anus. Slowly he started to insert the tip of his finger, stopping and waiting as he tensed in initial response.

“You’re doing great,” Victor said, stroking his clean hand up and down Yuri’s leg. It was another soothing point, and relaxing again, Yuri pushed his finger further up, little by little. Part of him was almost surprised that it was easier than he feared. Another part of him wondered if he’d even be able to find this pleasurable, no matter what research had been telling him. 

“That’s good, just like that. Are you comfortable?” At Yuri’s nod, Victor gave him another small smile. “Okay, that’s good. What you’ll want to start doing is feeling around for a lump, small, about the size of a…” Victor frowned, trying to remember the name for the nut in question. It wasn’t chestnut… where were basically all English nuts labeled as “such kind of” nut? “ _Noyer?_ Or a table tennis ball.” When the word wouldn’t come to mind, he reached for anything else comparable. 

Odd as it was, Victor’s pause to search for the word he wanted made Yuri’s lips twitch up at the corners. It was endearing, watching his brilliant skating genius suffer from the same forgotten word syndrome everyone seemed to experience even if they didn’t speak more than one language. Paired with the almost surreal reality of Victor kneeling between Yuri’s bent knees while Yuri had a finger up his own rectum?

That should have felt embarrassing. Instead, it felt almost encouraging. Victor’s apparent familiarity with anal play was a reassurance, not an intimidation.

“Right, a table tennis ball. That’s the same thing as ping pong?” Yuri asked while carefully feeling around toward the front wall of his rectum. 

“I think so, yes.”

“That’s what they called in when I was in Detr — _oh_.”

Victor smiled, studying Yuri’s face. “Oh?”

Yuri swallowed, concentrating on what he was feeling between his finger and his rectum. “I think I found it? At least it feels hard and it’s in the right place.” He was assuming it was the right place at least. How many other hard lumps would he find up there?

With a nod, Victor lifted his lubricant covered fingers, curling the tips inward and down. “Good, good. Then you’ll want to massage over it like this. You might not feel all that much,” Victor started to warn, Yuri already biting down on his lip as he concentrated on mimicking the motion Victor had demonstrated.

“ _Oh_ ,” Yuri repeated, startled at the sensation. It was pleasant, pleasurable, and very different from how he felt during masturbation. 

Victor had to laugh, light and airy. “Nevermind, my lucky star. Just keep making that motion, or try rubbing in a circle. Do what feels good. When you think you’re ready, you can see about adding another finger. Yours or mine,” Victor said with a wink, resuming his soothing stroking of Yuri’s leg, using his nails to start tracing looping patterns against his skin.

“Yours,” Yuri said without allowing himself to pause and think it over. Yes, he wanted to try out the toy he’d bought online when they’d been visiting in Hasetsu, but that was after. Right now he was wondering over the different kind of pervasive warmth, that sense of pressure and pleasure building deeper inside than he was used to feeling. It felt _good_. It also felt _different_.

Victor smiled again, ducking his head to kiss Yuri’s knee. “As you wish,” he said, and Yuri had the distracted impression that he should almost recognise that line from somewhere, though he didn’t. Instead he heard himself issue a low moan, Victor adding more lube to his fingers and around Yuri’s anus. He was patient and slow, pausing when Yuri clenched, reminding him yet again to relax. 

All these new sensations were strange, but not painful. Victor asked Yuri to show him where to massage, which felt silly, but Yuri complied regardless. The combined stroking and rubbing of their fingers left him shivering, toes clenching and straightening as the pressure built through his entire body, despite the focus being around his lower back, pelvis, and legs.

Yuri added a second of his fingers on his own, careful and persistent, biting down on his tongue at the change in fullness. Victor shifted to plant his free hand over Yuri’s shoulder, leaning down to kiss him long and slow, his finger and Yuri’s continuing their internal massage. Yuri moaned into that kiss, closing his eyes and straining up to Victor, reaching out with his clean hand to pull his head closer. He wanted Victor to feel just how needy he was; a different take on a hunger that he’s learned how to navigate in the last year and a half. 

“ _Victor_ ,” he said, spreading his knees a little wider. 

“Yuri,” Victor said right back, laughing and pressing close mouthed kisses to Yuri’s face, then his jawline. “Do you want us to see if we can bring you through to orgasm like this, or would you like to try the massager now?”

He wanted both, simultaneously, however impractical and impossible that was. Vaguely resentful at having such a question posed, he opened his eyes. “Do I have to choose?”

The underlying hint of petulance and a whine made Victor smile, amused. Normally that was more his purview. “You need to tell me what you want,” was the answer he gave. Victor refused to budge on that point, regardless.

“I _want_ both,” Yuri said, sighing afterward. He was surprised at himself being that blunt, feeling his cheeks start to heat all over again. Was this okay? Was he being a bother? Was this all an effect of Victor rubbing off on him? It was difficult maintaining that movement with his fingers while speaking out loud and wrangling those thoughts. He wanted to just focus on one thing at a time, the usual way he turned inward to focus on his physical actions.

Sex was different, he was finding. Or maybe it was different because he responded to and thrived on the same kind of attention that Victor blossomed under. A give and take, the acute _need_ for talking, which neither one of them were innately gifted with.

“The massager,” he said at last. Victor pressed another kiss to Yuri’s lips, leaning back and pulling his finger out. Yuri temporarily mourned that loss, keeping up his own ministrations as Victor picked up the massager, lubing it up. When he thought it looked generously covered enough, he brought it back to Yuri.

“Here.” 

Yuri lifted his head, pulling his fingers out of him. The massager was there, looking both daunting (bigger than any of their individual fingers) and appealing at once. Victor seemed to understand, or understand enough to make Yuri take it in hand.

“Not too big. Go slow, and keep breathing. You’ll be fine, Yuri, you’ve been doing so good.”

Yuri nodded, breathing in as he was reminded. Absurd that the reassurance was helpful right now. More often he might be caught between flattery and irritation. “Help me?” he asked, locking eyes with Victor. His lover nodded, vocalising a beat after.

“Always.”

The massager was slick from the lubricant, not as rigid as Yuri half expected it to feel. Between the two of them, they managed to guide it safely inside, Victor leaving Yuri to make the final adjustments. Even the pressure exerted as Yuri contracted his muscles alone brought the head of the massager against his prostate in a way that left him licking his lips, wanting to squirm with that all-consuming spread of pleasurable pressure.

Victor tucked something egg shaped into Yuri’s clean hand: the remote control, he realised.

“Everything feeling okay so far?”

“Yes, I, it’s nice. Should I turn it on?”

“That’ll probably be a pleasant surprise, yes. Do you want to sit up first?”

Yuri stared up at Victor. When a lack of clarification was provided, he closed his fist more tightly around the remote control, muscles clenching again. “Why?”

With a blink, Victor remembered to explain. “The last few times I used mine it was always more… mm, intense? Sitting up.”

Yuri thought it over, then shook his head. It sounded appealing, especially if it meant that intense, pleasurable ache would build all the more quickly. It also sounded overwhelming when he didn’t know how this toy felt once it was activated. “Not yet. After it’s on, I’ll see.”

It was a good thing they’d tested the vibrating functions and remote use before; Yuri knew to expect the highest setting to hit first once the prostate massager turned on, already taking down the intensity from the start. Even so, that initial rumbling had him tossing his head back, hand clutching down hard around the remote as he gasped and moaned, toes curling at the unexpected intensity of what he felt. Victor looked impressed, reaching out to hold on to Yuri as he said, “Take it down to where it feels good without being overwhelming.”

Yuri was already in that process, thumb frantically pressing down until the vibrations were less all-consuming. Yuri lay panting for a moment, the sensations far from gone, in fact starting to build all over again. He still needed a moment to collect himself, smiling weakly at Victor as he noticed his lover studying his face, stroking a hand down his side.

“I’m okay. That was… more than I was expecting.” They shared a chuckle, Victor shifting so he could brush Yuri’s bangs back off his forehead. 

“Looked like it felt good, at least.”

“Maybe too much,” Yuri agreed. Another few seconds, and he lifted the remote to squint at the three button controllers. Switching through the functions was a different education; quicky, Yuri learned which of them he preferred.

Victor watched him, leaning down and over him to kiss him when Yuri asked. His murmured statements of encouragement had their own cadence, but Yuri could start feeling himself react to some phrases more than others. _You’re doing good, you’re incredible, you look lovely like this, I’ve been dreaming of you._ The time Victor said, _I love you_ , Yuri moaned so loudly Victor had actually been startled, leaning in to pepper him with kisses and compliment his volume, to Yuri’s mixed embarrassment and not-quite-pride. 

The sensation kept building in his core, most intense around the region of his prostate, but spreading up his lower back, down his legs. He felt like he was shivering in heat, rocking his hips and clenching his muscles to see what difference it made, the pressure of that pleasure building without stop. He didn’t know how to describe it, but as he took Victor’s advice and finally did sit up, facing Victor, Yuri nearly slumped over in response. “ _Ooh_ ,” he said, turning into a low moan that he cut off by shoving his arm over his mouth.

Victor found it all incredibly arousing, the way Yuri looked even while he didn’t touch himself. Every moan that slipped out of his mouth, involuntarily, was incredibly stirring, leaving Victor dry mouthed and aching in response. Irony of ironies that it was Victor getting an erection while Yuri wasn’t even half hard, the nature of their respective stimulations that different.

He steadied Yuri as he sat, moving positions to come sit at Yuri’s side. Wrapping one arm around his upper back, Victor let Yuri rest partially against him, if he liked; his other hand started loosely playing with himself. Yuri was so incredibly _sensual_ , not to mention sexual. Victor wasn’t going to fault himself for being weak to his fiance in most every conceivable way.

When Yuri noticed Victor was playing with himself, he bit down on his lip, watching from the corner of his eyes. Then he turned his face, pressing a desperate kiss to Victor’s mouth. Victor kissed him back, hand going still on his member, which wasn’t what Yuri wanted.

He was being selfish and greedy this afternoon, and he didn’t mind. Victor kept telling him to say what he liked, or what he wanted. He needed the practice, even now, distracted and filled by a warmth and pressure that was leaving him vocalising in spite of himself.

“I want to watch,” he said as their lips moved apart, eyes flitting down toward Victor’s lap. “I want to watch you touch yourself, please. If that’s okay,” he added, not demanding, but asking. He wasn’t quite in that confident space to _demand_ right now.

Victor licked his lips, his smile slow and wonderful. “Okay,” he said. “Since you ask so nicely.” Victor’s hand stroked down to the base of his dick, taking hold and displaying it a little away from his core. “This is all yours.”

What an appealing thought. Yuri licked his lips as Victor let go of his shaft, patting the mattress until he found the lube. Pouring some straight on himself, Victor recapped the bottle and set it aside again. When he started stroking down over his erection, he let his eyes flutter close before opening again, focusing on Yuri’s face.

They moved into an odd kind of duet, Yuri’s moans pulled out of him as he felt that pressure build within, as if he were moving into the pre-ejaculation period, but nothing was _coming_ ; Victor, with his lower moans largely in response to Yuri’s, keeping to a speed and rhythm to last alongside Yuri. That shifted when Yuri reached out, grabbing on to Victor’s leg. The build of sensation was so much, almost paralysing in a way; he was so close to an orgasm he’d never conceived of before, but not _there_.

Then, just as suddenly, he was. He grunted and cried out as he felt himself coming, a stream of mostly clear fluid dribbling from his head, as steady as the orgasm he was riding. There was no pulsing, just the toe-curling wave of cresting pleasure that never seemed to end. He went partially boneless, leaning heavily into Victor, muscles in his thighs and lower back tensing and convulsing as his orgasm went on and _on_.

Victor adjusted for his wait, breathless as he praised him again, “You’re doing so good, you’re lovely, Yuri, just like this, so amazing, so sensitive,” stroking his own erection hard and fast, eschewing the earlier rhythm. By the time Yuri’s orgasm was finally abating, Victor was going tense, shuddering through his own orgasm at Yuri’s side. His moan followed Yuri’s, Yuri turning his head to kiss at Victor’s neck, his chest, anything he could reach, his afterglow a warm and body-encompassing thing. As Victor came, Yuri had the presence of mind to say some of the same things in return. “You’re lovely, Victor, so amazing, incredible.” His reward was a whine from Victor as he came a third time, breathless.

Yuri hadn’t turned off the massager, feeling it start to build the pressure inside of him all over again, faster this time than before. Victor tipped them both backward as Yuri was moaning, panting in-between, angling his body toward Victor’s in supplication.

Victor held him through his second orgasm, running one hand down Yuri’s side. “Do you want to keep going?” he asked when Yuri stopped coming, a boneless wreck lying there with him on the mattress. Yuri opened his hand, offering Victor the remote control, shaking his head. 

“Later. Victor, this… wow.” He laughed, breathless, nuzzling up against Victor’s sternum as his lover turned the prostate massager off, tossing the remote to the side after.

“Big wow,” Victor concluded, smiling in a happy, drained laze. He pulled Yuri even closer, lapsing into a state of general drained ease; Yuri doing the same, only even more so.

“I don’t think I’ll move ever again,” he said, pressing a lazy kiss to Victor’s chest.

“That’s going to make competing difficult.”

“Mm… not if we take up pair skating. You can just carry me around that way.”

“Wow, Yuri! I’m strong, but not _inexhaustible_. How about we trade off?”

“Haven’t we been doing that this whole time?” Yuri’s dry statement pulled a chuckle out of Victor as he closed his eyes.

“I think so, yes.”

They lay there entangled in each others arms for a while, halfway to a dozing state, eventually stirring to shower and clean up when the world refused to wait on them any longer. Victor stripped the coverlet off the comforter, tossing it into the washing machine along with whatever else was dirty, including several of the towels. They agreed they’d be staying in for the evening, especially as the crowds increased in size.

Dinner was made from whatever they’d been buying at the local stores; fresh fruit, rice, stripes of steak tossed with something like teriyaki. As it came closer to the time when the Eiffel Tower would be giving its fireworks display, they dragged out the blanket and the small table to set up the champagne, curling up together to watch the firework show. It was impressive, between fireworks that shot out parallel to the ground from the struts of the Eiffel Tower proper, to the more common, beautiful bursting blooms that reminded Yuri occasionally of chrysanthemum blossoms.

He leaned into Victor, sipping at his champagne, watching the sky and feeling more content, more happy, than he had for a majority of his life. Was that the trick of it? Finding an awareness of others and himself, of seeing love all around, and embracing it? Stumbling forward and still failing, but not giving up?

He didn’t know. He didn’t really need to, he thought. He just had to appreciate this now, and the people sharing it with him.

“I love you,” he said, resting his head against Victor’s shoulder. He repeated it in Japanese, trying out different loves, accepting all of them. He could be selfish, but this wasn’t a wholly selfish love. It was so many things: they were so many things to each other.

Victor kissed him, long and lingering, as the fireworks display hit its crescendo.

“I love you too,” Victor said. For a beautiful moment light and love filled Yuri’s world to bursting, inside and out, leaving no room for shadows or self doubt. They'd be back, of course, but for now, Yuri was here, Victor was here, and the world was this moment suspended in time, a teardrop of brilliant colours and the fizzling of champagne, the promise of every day yet to come a thrilling discovery.


	6. bdsm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri's surprise date brings them both to love in several of its forms, including the whimsical indulgences as they continue their exploration of Paris, and their exploration of themselves and new possible levels of intimacy. 
> 
> Also known as Yuri goes a bit overboard and Victor loves it.

Yuri woke with the sun, mind abuzz with a combination of anticipation and nerves as he went over the outline of a schedule he’d pulled together the last few days. He was still weighing the pros and cons of biking versus bussing over to Montmartre when Victor joined him on the couch, yawning and flopping into Yuri’s lap.

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” Victor said, nuzzling his face into Yuri’s stomach. It muffled the rest of what he was saying, though not enough to make him indecipherable. “You’re up early.”

“I wanted to finish looking at a few things.” He clicked his phone off, deciding his first opinion on biking over to one of the bus lines that went straight up through to that part of the city made the most sense. They’d get enough exercise walking and biking elsewhere later in the day without having to tack on the longer stretches. 

Looking down at the head of mussed silver hair in his lap, Yuri found himself smiling, reaching down to run his fingers through Victor’s hair. He loved this feeling, using the backs of his nails to give Victor a light scalp massage as he kept running his fingers over his head. “Think you’ll be ready to bike over to the bus stop in another half hour? There’s some decent places we can grab breakfast from once we’re in Montmartre.”

“Oh?” Victor had been melting into Yuri’s lap, lulled back into closing his eyes by the touch of his hand. Now he turned his head to peer up at Yuri’s face, a small grin forming as he spoke. “Montmartre? Is that my first clue?”

Yuri smirked, secure in the knowledge that of a whole region of the city, Victor was unlikely to have pinned down what it was Yuri had planned. He figured his plans were silly, but it still felt poignant, a nod to their relationship and the awakenings that’d been happening in Yuri’s world the last year and a half or so. “A tiny one,” he said, noting the spark of interest that lit in Victor’s eyes at his admission. “Only one way to find out for sure.” Ruffling Victor’s hair, Yuri’s smirk widened into a grin as Victor attempted to cover his head with his hands and pressed his face harder against Yuri’s stomach.

“My poor hair, what did it ever do to you?” Yuri laughed, ceasing the ruffling to stroke over Victor’s hair, taming it back down in apology. Seemingly mollified, Victor pulled his hands away, but then he was slipping them between his head and Yuri’s stomach to tease Yuri’s shirt up enough that he could press a kiss to the skin he found there. “Mm, a forbidden zone. _Vkusno._ ”

Feeling his cheeks start to pink, Yuri yelped and started trying to squirm away while shoving at Victor when his lover pulled Yuri’s shirt over his head and blew a raspberry against his stomach. “Victor!” Yuri said in protest, laughing and surprised all at once, “Get dressed!”

Victor pulled his head back out of Yuri’s shirt, sighing and casting him a doleful glance. “I miss seeing you in my clothes,” he said, apropos of nothing except the matter of getting dressed. He propped himself up, Yuri scooting over to escape any immediate second attempts at raspberry attacks on his poor stomach. “You’re so cruel, Yuri. Running away from me like this!”

Victor let his arm fall back, ending up half in Yuri’s lap, looking for all the world bereft of _something_ or another. Yuri cupped Victor’s hand in his own, lifting it to press a kiss into his palm.

“Pretty much,” he said, winking. “Running so far that I’m dragging you right along with me.” He stood, rotating his hold on Victor’s hand, offering his other hand to VIctor. Victor watched him move, smiling and taking the offered hand. Yuri had him up and on his feet with a grunt of effort, Victor tugging him closer. “Victor!” He protested with a laugh, but he didn’t step away. It gave Victor the time to rest his forehead against Yuri’s, staring into his eyes with the soft smile on his face that Yuri’s come to associate with Victor’s more vulnerable moments. One of many faces of love. He tried to look severe in response, failing it for the most part. Neither of them really seemed to notice. “I mean it, you need to get ready.”

“Mm.”

“Mm?”

“ _Mmm_. Half an hour?”

Yuri hummed his acknowledgement, nodding his head slowly to not knock their foreheads together. “Giving fifteen minutes or so for the bus to be early or late once we’re out there.”

Victor closed his eyes, smile in place. His arms slung low over Yuri’s hips tucked him a little closer still, Yuri’s hands at Victor’s sides clutching in response. “We should finish off that juice from yesterday. We’re eating in Montmarte?”

“It’d make the most sense. I looked at a few of the places open about when we’ll be there. Most had decent reviews.”

“Amazing.” Victor’s voice was warm. “You really have this all planned out.” He angled his head for a kiss, brushing his lips over the tip of Yuri’s nose. There was no accounting for why Yuri blushed then. He simply did.

“That’s what I said last night…”

“You did, and I love it.” Victor gave him a bigger smile, squeezing his arms tighter again before he finally loosened his hold, stepping back. “Time for me to get dressed for the day!”

Yuri shook his head, watching Victor go. It was a nice view… especially considering Victor had slept naked again last night. Who could blame Yuri for being distracted? 

* * *

The bike ride to the station was uneventful, beautiful because of their surroundings. Locking their bikes and boarding the bus meant half an hour of watching the scenery pass, something Yuri found himself enjoying. He hadn’t thought about it, but with the biking, he was still too hyperalert about everything going on around him to really take in the sights. Walking was easier, much like the bus made it simple to take Victor’s hand and remark on what parts of Paris they were passing.

In spite of Victor’s not so subtle attempts at getting their destination out of Yuri, he continued to evade with the studied politeness of someone used to dealing with the hammer of the press and the realities of customer service when he’d been younger. He wasn’t as graceful as Victor, but few were; he came close to breaking when Victor turned his puppy-eyed look his way, saved at the last moment by the bus pulling up to their stop.

“This is us!” he said, shooting up to his feet and hustling Victor into the aisle and toward the steps. He had them both down on the sidewalk of the narrower streets, scanning up and down for the names of any shoppes he could use to orient himself. Spying one that might not even be what he thought, he reached down for Victor’s hand, missed, grabbed his wrist, and then started marching down the street in a huffing fluster.

Victor wasn’t giving him a lost sad puppy look anymore, having exchanged it for one of amusement. He rolled his wrist free, capturing Yuri’s hand and lacing their fingers together, putting an extra spring in his step. The whole air of mystery seemed to do well with him, his bright and interested looks at everything around all carrying an edge of anticipation.

Yuri smiled, shoulders relaxing a fraction. He hadn’t wanted to spoil the first part of this, even planned on talking about the rest of their day with Victor, should he want to hear. When they hit the next street corner and Yuri read the names, he was gratified to see he’d picked the right direction. Crossing the street, he looked around, squinting as he considered the paths back away from the avenue. 

His goal lay in the small, fenced in park beyond the triangle people moved through, where the carousel stood in brilliant colours against the tans and creams of surrounding buildings. Yuri’s heart beat faster, eyes shining with the success of actually finding this place when he sighted the black fencing. He brought himself and Victor to a stop, turning to look up at Victor, determined. “Victor, do you trust me?”

Victor’s eyebrows lifted, blinking. “Of course.” There was no doubt in his mind that he trusted Yuri fully. Perhaps didn’t trust they wouldn’t have miscommunications, but trusted they’d navigate through them. 

“Good.” Yuri breathed in, counting to three as he breathed out. He reached for Victor’s other hand, holding both of them up between them, at chest height. “Then please close your eyes.”

Victor glanced down to their hands before lifting his eyes to Yuri’s face, trying to read what emotion he saw there. When he smiled, it was one of his small smiles, the kind that was gentle and genuine, almost indulgent. “All right.” His eyes closed, then stayed that way. 

Yuri released the breath he’d been holding for no good reason, beaming up at Victor. He might not have been able to see, but he could hear the change in Yuri’s tone; the gratitude and joy that flooded through him that Victor Nikiforov, love of his life, trusted him enough to close his eyes and let Yuri lead him wherever. He squeezed Victor’s hands, for a moment brought to the brink of tears. He blinked them away, heart happy. “Thank you,” he said, meaning it for so much more than this blind trust. “Thank you, Victor.”

He tucked Victor’s arm in the crook of his own, arranging himself at Victor’s side. Victor leaned his shoulder into him, a light smile on his lips. “You’re welcome. I was half expecting you to pull out a blindfold after all this. Just what are you taking me to see, Yuri?” His voice took on a sing-song cadence while Yuri started them walking again.

“I’m turning us sideways to get through this gate,” he said, simply opting not to answer Victor’s question, or the musing ones that followed. It wasn’t far off now: the blue tiles laid into their wall, the white lettering, the sporadic red rhomboids interspersed inbetween them all. Over three hundred ways of saying _I love you_ , in as many languages.

Yuri bit down on his lip, suddenly nervous. He hoped Victor would like this; would understand, too, once he saw what was written.

There was a young couple taking photographs as they arrived. Yuri asked Victor to stop, saying they needed to wait for a minute or two. It was watching the young couple finish up their selfies that Yuri realised he’d been shortsighted in just that one arena. (He hoped it was the only arena he hadn’t thought through about his surprise for Victor today.)

“Victor, will you be okay standing here on your own for a few seconds? I want to ask someone for their help with a photograph, like in Barcelona.” Nervous, he looked between Victor and the young couple. Were they going to leave?

“With my eyes still closed?”

“Ah, yes. If that’s okay,” Yuri hurried to add, studying Victor’s face intently. “It’s not important, I don’t have to ask. We’ll be fine on our own.”

Victor was shaking his head, patting Yuri’s arm reassuringly after making sure he’d found it with his other hand. He loosened his grip, using his hand to make a shooing motion. “Go, go, I’m fine. You’ll come back to me.”

Strange how those words made Yuri shiver. They sounded almost prophetic. It wasn’t that Yuri planned on ever leaving Victor, outside of necessary times where their obligations had them in different geographical locations. It was the absurdity of there being anything to prophesize _about_ them, as figure skaters or human beings. Perhaps with Victor, as the face for Russia’s figure skating, leading them into their last five years of unbeaten glory; Yuri continuing to aid that great legend. With Yuri?

Laughable.

He shook off the sensation, patting Victor’s arm in turn. “Always. I’ll be right back.”

Yuri approached the young couple with a nervous smile, saying hello in French, then asking first if they understood English. The taller woman smiled, nodding her head and answering in the language. Relief washed through Yuri as he made his introduction, followed by his request, nodding toward Victor and unconsciously playing with the ring on his right hand.

The shorter woman, introduced as Sophie, nodded her head. Charlotte, the taller woman, laughed and interpreted what Sophie had said. “ _Oui_ , yes, we will! Sophie is very good with photographs.”

His immense gratitude had him smiling, unselfconscious in that moment. “Thank you! _Merci, merci!_ ” Should he even be repeating the word? Probably not, but he was too happy to let the brief worry linger. He handed over his phone, unlocked, the camera app already up and ready. Then he jogged back to Victor, calling out to him before slipping his hand under Victor’s elbow.

“Victor! Thank you for waiting. There’s a young couple, Charlotte and Sophie, they agreed to help me out here.” 

“Glad to hear it, though I’m still wondering where _here_ is,” Victor said, feeling by then he deserved some kind of medal for not having surrendered to curiosity and opened his eyes. Yuri brought them to a stop again, centered in front of the wall of love. Turning to face it properly, tugging Victor into position, Yuri smiled.

“Open your eyes,” he said, “And tell me what you see.”

Victor complied, opening his eyes and blinking rapidly as they readjusted to the flood of daylight. He tipped his head back, looking over the whole of the wall, eyes scanning over the white writing and the red shapes. 

Yuri could see the moment understanding hit home. Victor’s eyes widened; he broke out into a delighted laugh, smile large and bright. “Yuri,” he exclaimed, turning on heel and holding his free hand to his heart. He looked near to tears himself; or maybe that was a trick of the lighting. “Yuri, this is amazing! You wanted to show this to me?”

Yuri nodded, smiling at Victor like there was nothing more wonderful in his world. “Love can be said in so many different ways. I thought, I wanted… to show you mine in this way, too.” His smile turned into more of a mischievous grin as he took a half step back, tugging Victor along while directing him into a spin. Surprised, Victor laughed and obligingly spun under their linked arms, ending up at Yuri’s side. Yuri didn’t hesitate, sliding his other arm across Victor’s back and dipping him down low, following after him to steal a kiss from Victor’s laughing mouth.

Yuri registered the applause while he was staring into Victor’s eyes, drinking in his happy smile. He pulled Victor back up to his feet, colour flaring in his cheeks as he turned his head and correctly identified their applauding audience: Charlotte and Sophie.

“Oh my god,” he said, fighting the urge to slam his hands over his face. Stupid, stupid!

Or not so stupid, he realises, Victor pulling him into a crushing hug. “Yuri!” Tucking his head over Yuri’s shoulder, Victor talked at the back of his head. “You never cease to surprise me in the most incredible ways.”

Yuri felt a warm kind of pride and satisfaction at that, his own arms up and hugging Victor in return. “Shouldn’t I be the one saying that to you?”

Victor pulled back just to smile at him, expression difficult to read. Yuri had a feeling Victor didn’t agree with the mutual sentiment. At least not in the way that Yuri did. It wasn’t anything to fight over. Love, as Yuri has also come to recognise, doesn’t mean ignoring faults or always agreeing. Accepting, growing, moving forward, supporting each other? Those are part of love, much like compromise, much like some loves were unconditional, and others were not. Love didn’t make life suddenly _easier_. It added a depth to things, made some more complicated, but oh, how much richer the landscape of his heart and wind were these days compared to a year and a half ago. 

Victor insisted on taking selfies with his camera once Yuri had thanked Charlotte and Sophie, tucking his phone away in his pocket. Once they’d satisfied Victor’s urges to document the day thus far, they took to wandering the streets, hand in hand. Yuri half thought Victor would ask for the rest of the day’s plans, but after an initial inquiry into them, Victor didn’t press. 

“I want to preserve the element of surprise,” he said, winking. It didn’t reassure Yuri, but he was feeling less on edge about an accidentally unhappy surprise by the time they’d found a restaurant for breakfast. Food settling in his stomach took off an edge of worry he hadn’t been aware of before. He should have been.

Victor thumbed through his photos when they were on the bus again riding back down toward where they’d left their bikes, pausing at the end of the day’s reel to glance over at Yuri. “You should post it,” he said.

“What?” Yuri glanced back to Victor, having been staring out the window at the buildings they were passing. Some of the brighter storefronts were fascinating, along with the collection and flow of people. Much less insane than what had flooded the streets the evening before after the fireworks had ended. 

“Whatever photograph Sophie took. Your Instagram is lonelier than I am when you and Makkachin aren’t around.”

Victor’s overexaggeration was met with a soft snort of disbelief. Yuri hadn’t done more than glance at the last photo snapped of the both of them, Victor hugging Yuri, hiding his face. It didn’t seem like that great of a photograph to Yuri for anyone other than them and their friends, but he supposed it wouldn’t hurt. It wasn’t _too_ embarrassing, and nothing about it was incriminating. Everyone who cared already knew they were on vacation in Paris. They’d just been lucky to be here during a crush and go around unidentified.

Or maybe that wasn’t luck. Figure skating was more popular now than it had been even a decade ago, but that didn’t mean people _knew_ who was involved with the sort. Victor was one of the few skaters who stretched beyond the confines of their sport.

Yuri pulled out his phone, dragging his finger over the screen to unlock it. The picture of Vicchan flashed over to his homescreen, giving way to one of Makkachin at Hasetsu’s beaches, taken just three weeks ago.

“I’m not sure if it’s worth posting something like that. Isn’t it more personal?”

Victor pouted, waiting for Yuri to open his photo gallery. “The right kind of personal. We’ll see. How many pictures did they end up taking?”

The answer, as Yuri found out after the gallery loaded, was fourteen. 

“Wow,” Victor said, excited as he reached over and tapped on Yuri’s phone. Not the most polite reaction, but one Yuri tolerated by tipping his screen toward Victor.

Then promptly losing his grip on his phone as the image filled the screen. “What?!”

Both he and Victor reached to catch his phone at the same time, ending up holding it with three hands, the fourth hand (Victor’s) catching the seat in front of them. They both looked down at the phone, then to each other; smiling in relief and amusement. Yuri’s was self aimed, but it was easier to focus on that then the sharp spike of embarrassment that flooded through him a moment before.

“How’d she catch that on camera?” Yuri stared down at the image, taking it in properly. It was Yuri as he dipped Victor, the moment where they were kissing, Victor’s leg up in the air, the blue of the tiles, the white of every carefully written _I love you_ their backdrop. “I didn’t even realise you’d thrown your leg up. You really did that?”

“I really did,” Victor said, leaning in closer to Yuri to stare down at his phone screen. His grin was ridiculous, pleased almost to the point of ecstatic. “Yuri, post _that_ one!”

“No?”

“Yes!”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Victor, _no_. It’s too, too intimate!” Embarrassing too, for sure, but Yuri wasn’t really embarrassed about _showing_ he loved Victor. It was the framing, the intimacy of a photograph where they were kissing, no ambiguity unlike with the Cup of China last year. He’d thought those endlessly circulating photographs had been bad enough paired with the candid Phichit took from the night before, let alone when months later they were confirmed as continuing on as coach and skater, not to mention competitors, not to mention _fiances._

Victor was shaking his head firmly, snaking an arm over Yuri’s shoulders. “It’s right,” he said, still looking down at the phone. “It’s intimate, yes, but not…” He lifted a finger to his chin, resting it there as he tried to find the word. “Not the sort of thing you shouldn’t see. Not private.” He glanced sideways at Yuri, looking at his face. “If you don’t want to, then of course you shouldn’t. Think it over before you decide, hm? I love it. All the people who support you, who love you, will love it too.” 

Victor gestured toward Yuri’s phone. “You look happy.”

Yuri worried at his lower lip, hands occupied with his phone and unable to fiddle with each other. He looked at the photograph, trying to see it from Victor’s perspective. Trying to look for the happiness in his face.

To his surprise, he could see it. He was _smiling_ into that kiss, the frame freezing him in that moment where his lips met Victor’s. There was passion behind this, certainly, but in that captured moment, it was less naked passion than naked happiness visible between the both of them.

Yuri didn’t say anything, merely tapped a finger over the favourite icon, then closed down the gallery altogether. They sat in silence, Yuri looking for a strained quality to it, finding it difficult to locate when Victor was still quietly invading his space.

“Okay,” he said after they’d stopped at another light, watching the perpendicular traffic speed on by. “I’ll think about it.”

Victor gave his shoulders a squeeze, resting his head against Yuri’s. “I’m glad.”

* * *

Yuri _did_ think about it, especially after they exited the bus and retraced their steps toward not their bikes, but the next place on his Secret Schedule. He had the tickets for the cathedral already, though it seemed it wasn’t as necessary: the queue wasn’t so long when they arrived. They were inside on the lower level before too long, having been passed through the security check, milling along with the rest and looking at the beautiful painting of the ceilings, the stained glass work of the visible windows. Lovely, but not as impressive as what Yuri had hoped Victor would appreciate. That was saved for the second level, achieved as they found the winding staircase up, politely excusing themselves past some of the slower climbers.

Yuri stuck close to Victor’s side, making sure he had an eye on him in the moment where Victor saw what Yuri had brought him here to see. It was rewarding to watch the look of awe spread over Victor’s face; his involuntary _wow_ kept low out of respect for the space, but no less genuine than when he shouted it. 

The stained glass windows at Notre Dame had seemed to capture Victor’s imagination in the days prior; getting online, Yuri had wondered if there were any other examples of that form of art that Victor might like to see. He’d found the Sainte Chapelle, ironically close to Notre Dame, if only he’d known about it then. The photographs he’d seen online were striking. Being here in person, seeing the magnificent stretch of the thirteen windows overhead upward to the high, domed arches of the ceiling, left him speechless.

Left Victor speechless too, before he pulled out his phone and tried playing with settings to capture even a fraction of the beauty behind the windows. It didn’t matter that the stories illustrated in glass and metal were ones that neither of them ascribed to beyond the truth of their existence in written word; the love that had gone into the making of these windows was apparent. Was, in the original sense, _awesome_.

“Amazing,” was all Victor could say at first, looking around the ceiling, eyes shining with delight. When he looked at Yuri, he repeated that word. “Amazing.” Yuri felt his heart flutter, knowing Victor meant him, somehow.

“It seemed like you really enjoyed the stained glass in Notre Dame. I thought you might want to see this too.”

In response, Victor had slipped his arm around Yuri’s waist. “Such a thoughtful fiance I have, to plan these surprises for me. I love it,” he said, and Yuri felt like he could hear the sentiment underlying those words: _I love you._

He shivered, happy in a toe-curling way. He’d never get tired of hearing that. Probably never would fully understand, but he’d try.

Their day moved forward from there, reclaiming their bikes and cycling according to Yuri’s directions. They took a wrong turn or two, but Victor had called them sightseeing detours, and Yuri had slowly been able to edge away from getting tense over the extra twists and turns. They found another crepe stand near the Jardin des Plantes, agreeing unanimously to feed themselves before heading into the botanical garden proper.

They wandered through the immense gardens, from the collections of Alpine trees to the impressive arrays of flora from all parts of Europe. The hot-houses were fascinating in and of themselves, representing a respectable array of plantlife from Mexico in one, Australia in another. Victor didn’t have many opinions on plants, other than finding them aesthetically pleasing in a general sense. When they came to the rose garden section, he and Yuri took turns smelling the flowers, rating the scents on a scale for appeal, strength of scent, and then arbitrary, joking categories, such as “most likely to be used in a flower crown,” or “least likely to be used tossed over a bath.”

“Look at this one,” Victor said, gesturing for Yuri to join him by a twisting rose bush, flowers something close to a purple, almost blue. “They’re attempting to use hybrid to produce a blue rose. The ones you see are all fed dye, like with daisies.” Victor smiled, shaking his head in reminiscence. “They’re beautiful to look at, no matter their origins.”

Yuri could remember watching the livestream of the European Championships where Victor had been crowned in blue roses by a fan; he smiled, making a noise of acknowledgement in the back of his throat. “They really are,” he said, eyes focused just on Victor.

Victor would be beautiful no matter where he came from. 

Somewhere on the outer edge of all the growing life and the zoo and natural history museum they both learned were present in the same region as the botanical gardens, they encountered a small carousel. Each animal on it was either extinct, or in danger of becoming so. Victor, being himself, asked the operator if there was a weight limit for the ride; Yuri didn’t need to understand French to know exactly what his fiance was asking. Nor did he need to know that even if there had been, the man running it was thoroughly charmed by Victor, accepting their donation to the gardens and zoo before allowing them their pick of steeds.

Yuri wanted to put Victor on the Dodo, even if that was terribly impractical for size. There was a giant bird that seemed like a great secondary option, but he was dragged onto an odd animal that looked like a cross between a giraffe and an antelope.

“Do you even know what this is?” he asked, dubious. Victor’s response came so qickly, Yuri figured it was a joke.

“Sivatherium!”

“Sivatherwhat?”

“Sivatherium. The man running the carousel said they’re the only ones who go up and down.” By default identifying the creature without any further context. Victor flashed Yuri a grin as he swung a leg over the pseudo-giraffe, reaching forward to pat its head between its branch-like horns. “Climb on!”

“I’m not getting on the same sivathing as you are,” Yuri warned, Victor laughing it off and nodding his head to the sivatherium by his side. 

“Riding in my lap might be a little risque for public,” Victor agreed, managing to look almost innocent as Yuri shot him a _look_ , blushing for the nth time that day. Regardless, he found he didn’t really mind. The carousel, not the innuendo. The innuendo he was learning to handle by adapting his sense of punning and wordplay to English, which wasn’t quite as adept at handling the concept as his native language. (He may have been biased, but he also suspected he was right.)

The music was as classically _carousel_ as anything Yuri had heard in his life. He held onto the pole in front of him, Victor leaning over with his phone out, ready to take their carousel selfie. It was ridiculous, and fun, and made Yuri feel less self-aware of being a grown adult man riding up and down on a carousel likely visited primarily by children.

Then again, he might be marrying someone who didn’t put hard delineations on what was allowed to a child or an adult, depending on his mood. Both a liberating and worrisome concept, depending on _Yuri’s_ mood.

Today it was easy to laugh, easier to smile, taking the hand offered to him across the space between them so that they rode around in circles holding hands, rising up and sinking down and commenting on the lives of the wooden carousel figures around them. Victor seemed to believe the gorilla held bookclub meetings with the horned tortoise. Yuri countered that it was more likely the gorilla spent time wrestling the triceratops, leaving the reading to the birds.

Lunch was picked up on the go, consisting of bread and cheese and sliced salami. Nothing too inspiring, but enough to give them energy. Yuri stopped them both by a green statue with a sound of trickling water falling into a hidden basin to handle another concern. Four women held up a domed and intricate roof, acting as columns that kept their structure standing. The pedestal they stood on was decorated with what Victor thought was a kind of sea beast; Yuri shrugged, detaching his water bottle from the carrying space of his down tube.

“Wait… is this one of the drinking water fountains?” Victor perked up, eyeing the statue with renewed interest. He’d heard mention of them before but hadn’t tracked any down.

Which of _course_ Victor knew, Yuri thought, still gratified by the sudden jump in interest as Victor joined him at the fountain. Unscrewing the top of his bottle, Yuri angled it in between two of the metal women, centering it under the steady stream of water pouring down from the top dome. Aside from the initial splash of water over his hands, he was surprised at how easy it was to use.

A silly surprise, he reflected. It was a spigot of water; it should work like any other kind.

Yuri pulled his bottle back out and took an experimental sip of the water; Victor had already retrieved his own water bottle and reappeared at his side, filling up from the steady falling stream. “Not bad,” Yuri said, hedging his bets that it was fairly standard for water.

Once his bottle was filled, Victor took a sip, exhaling in a sigh of happy relief. He winked, tipping his bottle toward Yuri. “ _Vkusno_!”

Their detour with lunch on the go landed them curving through the streets, following whatever Yuri’s navigation application swore was the right way. Turning down a stone walled avenue, Yuri was close to apologising to Victor ( _again_ ) when he noticed the far stone wall he was seeing out the other side of the alley was a significant distance away.

The shape of the one-time arena resolved as they stepped into its circle, stone walls curving away from the flattened backside of the buildings looming overhead. Tiers of stone seating arched around, disappearing into that flat wall, the curving back out from the far side. Benches were situated at regular intervals within the bowl of the one-time gladatorial complex; fenced off sections that once led to underground holding areas beckoning from the left.

“It’s supposed to be the only remaining evidence of Paris when it was under Roman rule. I guess this was an ampitheatre… staging fights, aquatic sports, things like those.” He peered up at the side to their right, where no tiered seating existed. “This might have been the stage.” Yuri shook his head, tossing a sheepish smile at Victor. “Not the most exciting stuff, but it’s supposed to be one of a kind.”

Victor was watching Yuri with that expression again, the one that seemed to say Yuri could lead him just about anywhere and he’d be happy to follow, until the point where he got bored or he thought Yuri was tired. Somewhat of a cross between the expressions he’d worn in Barcelona, and a variety of expressions Victor’s worn since then.

“I like unique,” Victor said, lips quirking up into a grin. “I’d also like to eat, and it looks like if we can get up a level either the places under those trees or in the shadow of these buildings would make for a great picnic spot!”

Walking their bikes along the side of the arena toward the other obvious entrance, Victor gazed around, giving a low whistle. “Roman occupation, huh? Some of this has to be restoration, but it’s impressive.” He flashed Yuri another grin. “We’ll take a photo before we leave.”

Yuri smiled, lifting his shoulders in a small shrug as they passed into the shadows again. “From higher on the seating areas? We could get more of the arena behind us in a single shot that way.”

Conversation idled once they found a place in the shade to settle in, bikes leaned together, propped against the trunk of a hardier tree. The summer heat wasn’t as bad as Yuri kept expecting, but it was enough to make him thankful for his water and the shade. He tucked away his trash alongside Victor’s, staying seated and stretching his arms before he flopped backward into the grass, boneless.

Victor regarded him for a moment, canting his head to the side. “Nap time?”

Lifting one arm to shade his eyes from the dappled sunlight breaking through the branches of the trees, Yuri squinted. He brought his other hand up in a lazy, dismissive way. “Concentrating on digesting.” 

Victor nodded as if this were information of grand importance. He settled down at Yuri’s side, scooting in closer to rest his head on Yuri’s shoulder. His arm came to rest over Yuri’s chest, hand loosely curled over his other shoulder. “Good plan. Did we need to be anywhere else today?”

Need felt relative, but for a moment, Yuri found himself questioning what Victor said. Did he _want_ today to be over? Had it been that bad? That good? Too little? Or too much? Was he more tired than Yuri realised?

“Not until right around sunset. Why?”

Victor could feel how Yuri tensed. He moved his hand to stroke over Yuri’s shoulder joint and down his arm, nuzzling the fabric of Yuri’s shirt where he lay his head. “Wanted to know if we were in a hurry. This is nice,” he explained, letting his eyes close. “Being here with you.”

Yuri felt his heart swell, head swimming a little as he focused on those words, repeating them back. “It’s nice being here with me.” Literally repeating them back, he realises, biting down on his tongue.

“Better than nice,” Victor said, amending his own statement. He moved his hand down to rest on Yuri’s stomach, idly tracing patterns through the material of his shirt. “I love it. Just like I love this,” he said, tapping a finger firmly against Yuri’s stomach. “And this,” he continued, bringing his hand up to tap on Yuri’s sternum. “And this,” he added, lifting his head and propping himself up on an elbow, pressing a chaste kiss to Yuri’s lips. “All of this,” he said, tapping on Yuri’s forehead, then gesturing in a loose circle, “Plus all of this. I love the whole Yuri.”

Victor looked inordinately pleased with himself, close to smug as he meet Yuri’s gaze. He was ridiculous and endearing, and the blush Yuri felt creeping down the back of his neck in response to Victor’s frankness was the happy kind of embarrassment. Yuri reached out, cupping the back of Victor’s head to pull him in for another kiss, light and lingering.

“Good. I love the whole Victor, too.” Yuri paused, expression growing wry. “I don’t think either of us knows how to do things in halves. Anyway, we can go back to the flat in a while.”

Victor laughed, shifting so he could lay his head down on Yuri’s shoulder once more. “ He snuggled close, not the most comfortable in the heat, but tolerable in the shade.

It was thinking about the temperature that did Yuri in. Thoughts that had been stirring in the back of his mind for a while meandered lazily to the forefront. Idly, not thinking overhard, Yuri mused out loud:

“Victor, what do you think about temperature play?”

There was a pause in which they both held silent, Yuri mortified at having asked without any lead in _at all_ , Victor taken off guard at the sudden blunt question that he could only interpret in one way.

“Wow, Yuri!” There was a wondering note in his voice. He chuckled, tracing a heart over Yuri’s chest with one finger. “Or we could go back to the flat now.” 

Yuri had both his hands over his face, groaning in the back of his throat. Victor sat up, carefully pulling Yuri’s hands away from his face. “ _Victor_ ,” he whined, reluctantly looking up at him through his off-kilter glasses. Victor kept tugging on his hands until he had them near the level of his chin, leaning in toward Yuri with a considering look on his face. His lips pulled up into a small smile, reassuring; he squeezed Yuri’s hands before pressing a kiss on top of his fingers. 

“We haven’t really talked about fantasies or anything like preferences in depth, have we?” He pursed his lips, shaking his head. That was an oversight on both their parts. Up until now it’d been relying on communicating what they did or didn’t want in actions and some words, but not discussing in depth what they’d _like_ to try. That was a habit worth changing. 

“The answer is I haven’t thought much about temperature play, but I’d be interested to try.” Victor sat back, a tug on Yuri’s hands a suggestion for Yuri to join him. “I’m interested in trying anything you want to try.” Victor paused then, frowning. He bit down on his lip, eyes looking off to the side. “Almost anything,” he corrected. “Feces or anything with cutting skin doesn’t really interest me.”

Victor could think of other kinks he’d heard about that he didn’t much care for, surprisingly not just from Christophe in his ongoing quest to be the most shockingly provocative sex symbol that he could be. But he wasn’t really sure how to open this kind of conversation, and he’d rather discuss as things were brought up.

Yuri knew he was flame faced, reclaiming one hand to pluck at the front of his shirt and pull it away from his chest, hoping to invite in more air. He wasn’t having trouble _breathing_ , which was good; he was embarrassed, but not panicking. Victor’s voice was soothing, as was the seamless way he took up the unexpected narrative without throwing it back in Yuri’s face.

It didn’t stop Yuri from blurting out the first non sequitur that came to mind after Victor’s clarification. “What about urine?” Years of peeing in cups came to mind, urine test after urine test. There was a point where you simply got used to having an at will bladder on certain days.

Not a sexy thought, but Victor shrugged with a truly unfair elegance, resting his hands in his lap, his leg pressed up against Yuri’s. “Nothing for or against it. Always sounded territorial. Marking and stuff.” 

Yuri blinked at him for a few beats of his heart. “Ah, right. I mean, I can see that.” What he didn’t understand was the way his face felt even hotter after Victor’s statement. Especially since even the word _urination_ had him thinking in resignation about his next medical exam.

He shook that thought and the unexplored associations off, drawing one knee in toward himself. Victor stayed as he was, patient, and Yuri found himself fidgeting. Adjusting his glasses, back to plucking at his shirt and shaking it to generate a breeze, glancing away from Victor, looking back to Victor.

“I’m not sure I know… everything. There’s just a few things I’m curious about?” He hoped Victor would know what he meant. _Yuri_ only half knew what he meant.

In truth, Victor only had the most vague idea. He also had several personal fantasies he could get into, and suspected Yuri might have the same, but his list of _what I’ve done with other people_ was lacking in comparison to his list of _what I’ve done to with and or for myself_.

“Like temperature play?”

He nodded, swallowing. He kept his eyes on VIctor’s, trusting in him to listen. Sustained eye contact was something he’d gotten used to in America by necessity; with Victor, there was a whole different layer to it. “Yeah. Like temperature play.”

“Giving or receiving?”

“Uh,” Yuri’s mind was a sudden, immense blank. “Both? Maybe? I’m not sure. Giving at first, I think.” Being in control at first had an appeal he wouldn’t deny.

“Okay. We can try that. Was there anything else? Fantasies you have, other toys you wanted to try…?”

Yuri was staring at Victor, holding his breath. He exhaled all at once, laughing because he didn’t know what else to do. “Bodyshots. Spreader bars? Victor, how can you be so... “ He made a rolling motion with his hand, trailing off when words failed. _How can you be so relaxed? Especially out here! In public!_

Victor reached out, catching Yuri’s hand. He pressed a kiss to the back of it, nuzzling against Yuri’s knuckles. “Sex is one more way of connecting with other people. Talking about these things is…” he trailed off, expression turning wry. “Important. Though we should take this conversation somewhere private. It might make it easier to share.”

He brought Yuri’s hand to his face, turning it over to press Yuri’s palm to his cheek. 

Yuri swallowed, nodding, finding himself smiling in a soft, self-aware way. He ran the pad of his thumb over Victor’s cheek, tracing down to let it rest at the corner of his mouth. “I think we should go back to the flat now,” he said, voice lower than earlier. Victor nodded, closing his eyes and turning his head to brush his lips against the palm of Yuri’s hand.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

Yuri had only been able to give words to the barest element of anything he thought or felt or was interested in. Victor was wonderfully supportive, and at Yuri’s request, shared some of his own desires and fantasies in return. One kept sticking in Yuri’s head, an image of Victor slowly undressing him from his free skate outfit from last season. The things Victor had suggested, such as leaving off his leotard and half the rest?

Yuri shivered, picking up his glasses from the table and putting them back on. Was it odd to talk like this? To mention that he wanted to try using ice on Victor, even when they spent a life sliding _over_ ice, not having it slide over them. That always lead to bruises and skinned something or another, depending on how hard they fell. Aside from the programs they skated (or Christophe’s proclivities), Yuri had never thought of the ice as being sexual in and of itself. Yet in his mind, he fantasized about the _response_ to cold, to heat, though he had no candles that were safe for these kinds of activities.

Yuri licked his lips, nervous. How all that discussion had led to now he wasn’t entirely sure. He stood there having pilfered one of Victor’s button-up shirts, wearing his nicer pants, his suit jacket on. He felt dressed up to head out on the town, but instead he was in the kitchen, brewing tea and pulling ice chips out of the freezer. Those he tossed into a bowl, expecting them to slowly melt. The tea was close to ready, the kettle pulled off far before the water was boiling.

He checked the tea, nodding to himself when it seemed all was well. He was hyperaware of every movement he was making, not for the deliberateness of his suit or the overlarge shirt that would have looked out of place if he hadn’t tucked everything in. It was the soft slide of fine metal chains against his skin underneath everything else that kept catching at his attention, reminding him of part of his _surprise_ for Victor.

A stray tendril of hair fell back down against his forehead, escaping the half-gelling he’d given his hair in an effort to pull it all back off his face. He’d agreed on a few basic rules they would both follow, for the sake of knowing exactly what was going on. Victor would listen to any of Yuri’s demands for the duration; Yuri didn’t imagine he’d make many, but he knew a few had already come to mind. He had Victor’s trust, and that precious commodity meant taking care of Victor and taking care to _not_ end up asking him to do what he shouldn’t, or couldn’t, do.

It also felt far less relevant to playing around with ice cubes and carrying a cup of tea, but Yuri was in favour of being over-considerate.

They’d agreed on three words as a check in system, sticking to traffic lights for simplicity. Green meant everything was fine, the ice wasn’t too cold, Victor wasn’t unduly uncomfortable. Yellow meant they were toeing the line, that Victor felt some distress they might need to discuss. Red meant stop immediately. Yuri couldn’t imagine coming to that point, but it was still reassuring. It meant having a structure to follow and respect. It meant Yuri could walk into the bedroom wearing his second best suit and his lover’s borrowed button-up, hair slicked back, glasses on, carrying a bowl of ice chips and his mug of tea and look as confident as he could feel on the ice.

He could borrow his Eros for a while.

He found Victor waiting on the bed, like he’d said he would be, dressed in his suit, hands resting on his thighs. He looked up as Yuri entered, eyes widening a fraction as he noticed the glint of gold around Yuri’s neck.

Good. Yuri meant for him to notice. He felt his pulse in his neck, swallowing again and walking past Victor to set the bowl of ice on the dresser, next to the lube. He turned back around to face Victor, adjusting the cuffs on his sleeves.

He had this. Victor trusted him, believed in him. _He could manage ice play_.

(Which did not, in any way, explain the suits.)

He approached Victor, smoothing out one lapel with a thoughtful curve to his lips. He regarded Victor with a look of approval, lips parting, tongue darting out to trace over his upper lip. “You’re a handsome sight,” he said, one hand stroking down over Victor’s tie. The fingers of his other hand curled around the tie’s knot. 

“Thank you,” Victor said, eyes intent on Yuri’s movements. He didn’t smile so much as stand there, hands at his sides, waiting a moment before reaching out to lightly rest his hands on either side of Yuri’s waist.

“You’re welcome.” Yuri tugged on Victor’s tie, just sharp enough to be noticeable. “But it’s too many layers. I can’t see enough of you.” Yuri tugged on his tie again, this time using both hands to start loosening the knot. “Strip for me, Victor.”

* * *

Victor thought he had a fairly good idea what was going to happen. As soon as Yuri walked into the room, gold band glinting at his throat, barely visible past the collar of his purloined shirt, Victor knew he’d been wrong. Yuri had asked about dressing up, fantasies involving suits and stripping down. They were ones Victor shared, and didn’t mind indulging. Pairing that with a sort of guided narrative, focused on the suits, nudity, and ice play as foreplay, letting Yuri take that lead? That had seemed straightforward. All the agreements, that Victor would listen to Yuri, that they had a system of words set up to make communication as clear as possible, that Yuri would be using ice and no other toys, were still in place. Victor knew he’d only do what he wanted to do, and that Yuri happened to align with _what Victor wants to do_. Not only in bed, though that was increasingly more the focus in the present moment, but in general: in his life as a whole.

Having Yuri walk into their bedroom in Eros mode? Victor’s heart rate was already picking up, mouth suddenly dry. He had no trouble listening to Yuri’s first demand. Stripping was one of his natural inclinations, depending on location and state of inebriation.

He glanced down, reaching for the buttons of his jacket, when he felt Yuri’s hand slide along his jaw, down from the curve of his mandible to the point of his chin. Two fingers pressed upward, lifting Victor’s chin until he was looking directly into Yuri’s eyes. How intense they were right now, on this afternoon with warm sunlight stretching from the windows over the wood floors, across the lower diagonal third of the mattress. Darker in a way, more focused, more vibrant. Victor found himself swallowing again, unable to look away.

“Keep your eyes on me, Victor. Don’t you ever look away.”

His lips curled at the corners, responding to the demand in a small way; the shiver that traveled down his spine at Yuri’s demand was larger, stirring a familiar arousal. He was already turned on by his fiance’s simple fact of existence. Everything else was unfair additional fuel on a barely banked fire. “I’m looking,” he said, wanting it to be a promise. Yuri brought his face closer, not quite close enough to kiss. He pulled on Victor’s tie steadily, slipping it out of its knot, off from around Victor’s neck.

“Look more,” he said, taking a step back and turning away, carrying the tie off with him.

Victor hesitated, momentarily at a loss for what to do in the wake of how incredible attractive he’d found that exchange. Yuri glanced over his shoulder, lifting his eyebrows.

“Did I say you should stop?”

“Ah, no, you didn’t, Yuri.” Victor finished off his buttons, shrugging out of his jacket with more haste than his practised ease called for. Yuri watched him, lips curling up into a satisfied little smirk.

“Good, Victor. Keep going, just like that.” Yuri faced away from him again, folding the tie and setting it on top of the dresser. Victor pulled his shirt out from his pants, fingers carefully moving from button to button. He only fumbled when Yuri started to shrug out of his jacket, letting it slide partway down his arms, showing off an expanse of his shoulders in white. For a half-beat, Victor almost believed it was unintentional. Then he saw Yuri turn his head, looking back over his shoulder with his lips pulled into that knowing expression, and he knew it was no accident.

His shirt was set to the side with his jacket, Victor keeping his eyes on Yuri even as he undid his pants, pushing them down over his hips. He stepped out of them, underwear still on, socks still clinging to his calves.

Yuri allowed his jacket to fall from his frame, snatching it up to lay it carelessly over the chair by the dresser. He walked back to Victor, eyes flicking over him. When he reached out to trace one fingertip over the waistband of Victor’s underwear, Victor was startled by the sudden sensation of cold. He breathed in audibly, Yuri’s eyes sparkling with a mixture of desire and satisfaction that Victor could remember from other places, other times.

“These come off. Those,” he said, eyes flicking down to look at Victor’s socks, an argyle pattern in deep navy and a lighter blue. “Stay.” 

Victor had his underwear off in record time, not even questioning why Yuri wanted his socks to stay in place. If it was a new kink, or an unexpected trial of one, Victor was fine with that. Maybe Yuri would want him in taller socks. They made knee highs, didn’t they? What about mid thigh highs?

Yuri’s hands skated down Victor’s sides, curving around to give him a gentle pap on the muscles of his backside. “On the bed. Get yourself in the center and sit there, please. I’ll help you get settled.”

Victor nodded, backing up until he felt the bed butt up against his thighs. It was more awkward trying to move while keeping his attention on Yuri, but he didn’t mind. He was already partially hard, excited, anticipating. He scooted himself backward, feeling for the pillow line to guess where he was relative to the backboard. 

“Good, Victor.” Yuri was standing at the foot of the bed staring right at him, his fingers on the top button of his shirt. He slipped the button out of the hole, freeing up the top of his shirt. Victor felt a twitch in groin, the visual stimulus of Yuri slowly unbuttoning the shirt he was in, the shirt he’d borrowed from _Victor_ , more than he could hope to deny. Yuri undid the next button, then the next, slowly exposing the delicate gold chains in their collar around his neck; as intriguingly the same gold chain that stretched just below the collar, disappearing out toward Yuri’s clothed shoulders.

Victor fisted his hands into the comforter, watching Yuri give him one of his sly smiles. Shy, too, a touch of it there, but sly more than the rest; even with his glasses on, Yuri was channeling the confidence he used to get through Eros all last year into the way he moves forward now. Victor wasn’t sure if he’d seen anything more erotic.

Aside from everything else Yuri does. 

Three buttons down, and Victor brushed his hand against his own thigh. Yuri’s eyes flashed, and as suddenly as that, he was kneeling on the bed, moving toward Victor. Straddling and then half on top of him without directly resting his weight on him. The material of his pants brushed against Victor’s bare thighs. Yuri came within touching distance, but didn’t touch. When he bridged that distance, he cradled Victor’s cheek, leaning in to press a heated kiss to Victor’s lips.

“No touching. Not me, not yourself. Not yet.” Surprised by his own response, Yuri sunk down to rest lightly in Victor’s lap. The chains shifted under his clothing, his chest visible through the open portion of the buttondown. Yuri’s expression lost some of its intensity, softening as he stroked his hand over Victor’s hair. 

“How are you doing?” Yuri had barely even touched the ice so far, for all his thoughts were focused on what he wanted to outline, trace, and tease with ice.

Victor half wanted to ask Yuri to take him hard and fast right then. He resisted through a Herculean effort, instead responding along the lines of what they’d agreed. “Green,” he said, lifting the corners of his mouth in a smile. “You’re in gold.”

Yuri’s smile matched his for the moment. “If you’re really good, I may even let you kiss it later.” Mussing Victor’s hair, then smoothing it down again, Yuri leaned past him to start collecting the pillows close. Building them into an elevated pyramid of sorts, he sat back up, caressing Victor’s cheek once again when he saw how closely he was watching Yuri move. It was heady on one level; satisfying on another. On a third, Yuri wanted nothing more than to curl up around Victor and tell him how wonderful he was.

Hell, what was stopping him now?

“You’re beautiful like this, Victor. Lean back, just like that. Good, you’re doing so good.” Yuri sat up, straddling Victor’s lap. “Stay like this for me. I have a surprise for you, as long as you behave.”

“I’ll be very good,” Victor said, a hint of a pout under his tone of voice. He half lowered his lashes, looking up at Yuri, his hands pressed flat against the bedspread. “I won’t move. Does this surprise involve touching?” He started to make the puppy eyes that Yuri had so few defenses against. As if to forestall that development, Yuri slid back off Victor’s lap, moving off the far end of the mattress.

“You’ll have to wait and see,” he said instead, flashing Victor a knowing smile. A feat in and of itself; as Yuri turned away from Victor, he felt himself blush. Ahh, all of this was embarrassing, but in a pleasant, stirring way. He needed to bring the ice into play. Much longer like this and he was going to get entirely sidetracked. 

He collected the bowl of slowly melting ice from the dresser top, picking up the lube at the same time. Both he walked around to the right side of the bed, settling them on the mattress where he wanted: easy to access, in reach, but not liable to immediately be tipped over. While a damp, wet spot wasn’t the end of the world, he didn’t want to scramble after all the ice pieces.

Not when he wanted to be focused on bringing pleasure to Victor; Victor depending on Yuri knowing what he was doing to carry him over that threshold into release. 

“Yuri…” Victor called out to him, voice low, still watching as he moved around the room. Yuri stopped at the end of the bed, fingers skimming over his buttons until he was pulling his shirt out of his pants, little by little.

“Are you being good, Victor? I think you have. Good behaviour deserves a reward, don’t you think?” Yuri’s hands dipped lower, undoing the hook of his pants, sliding the zipper down with a slow, deliberate motion. He hooked his thumbs in his pants, watching Victor’s face, watching the way Victor’s hands clutched at the blankets and he breathed in sharp as Yuri slipped his pants down lower, revealing, for a moment, that he wasn’t wearing any underwear himself.

His own partial erection pressed against the fabric of his shirt as he moved, tented and hidden depending on how Yuri moved. He saw Victor bite down on his lip, eyes on Yuri, squirming a little, as if he could invent friction out of thin air. His dick was slowly growing harder; reward of a different kind for Yuri.

Yuri smiled, looking through his lashes at Victor. “Did you like that?” He licked his lips, Victor taking a moment to nod and speak.

“Yes, very much, thank you.” He swallowed, aching to be touched; aching to see more. “You’re incredible, Yuri.”

“So are you.” Yuri couldn’t help the fondness that showed on his face; his fingers returned to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one. Little by little, the midline of his chest and abdomen were exposed. Victor bit down on his lip, tempted to swallow the low moan that slipped out of his mouth. His half-erect member twitched again in response to Yuri’s commanding seduction: ordered only to watch, to not move, Victor found it nearly unbearable.

Only nearly. He didn’t feel the need to use _red_ the way they’d agreed. He could be patient. He could watch as Yuri undid the last of his buttons, pulling his shirt off in a careless, confident display. He could moan even louder as his eyes widened and took in the sight of Yuri, standing there in the nude but for thin golden chains draped over the front of his shoulders, encircling his neck like a collar, draping down past his navel to loop back toward his back. Another thing line of golden chain slung across his hips, gold dangling down along his sides, tantalising. It wasn’t until Yuri tossed another self-assured look Victor’s way as he turned around that Victor truly understood how magnificent the misleading delicate strands of gold were; looping seven times over, each loop resting lower along the curve of Yuri’s buttocks, coming back up to a circle ring resting over his tailbone. A gold tassel hung from the bottom of the ring, a perfect centerline falling between Yuri’s well-formed cheeks.

Even that wasn’t _all_ , as Victor saw, forgetting for a moment to breathe. Where the chains draped closer to the shoulder joint over the front of Yuri’s shoulders, at the back, the looping chains went down as far as midback, coming up in pleasing nesting arcs that draped beautifully over his shoulderblades. Connected at the top by a single strand, Victor found it impossible to look away.

“Yuri, please,” he half begged, holding onto the blankets now to keep himself anchored, to follow the request that’d been made. He wanted to move, to collect, to embrace, to kiss; but he also wanted this. The anticipation as Yuri smiled and reached out, running his hand over Victor’s foot, over his ankle. He came back onto the bed like that, naked but for the delicate, golden chains and the glasses he had on even now.

“I’m here, Victor.” Dragging his nails up Victor’s inner thighs, brushing past his near full erection. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Yuri pulled his glasses off at last, feeling more powerful in Victor’s gaze than he had any normal right to be. Caressing over Victor’s hip, down to his outer thigh, Yuri framed his last request. His most recent demand. “I want you to be as loud as you want, Victor. Don’t hold back. I want to hear you every time something feels great, and hear from you when it doesn’t. Will you do that for me?”

Victor might have battled the world stark naked in that moment if Yuri had asked with that particular tone of voice. Thankfully, the world wasn’t requiring battling, and Yuri’s demand was well within Victor’s purview to provide. “I will. Yuri, please, touch me?”

Yuri obliged, unsure if Victor genuinely needed the contact. “How are you doing?” Rubbing his hand in a soothing circle at Victor’s hip, Yuri studied his face.

Victor tossed his head,his bangs splaying across his forehead. “Green, it’s green. I want to feel you,” he said instead, trying to get a sense form himself when things would be getting to be too much. If Yuri hadn’t been touching him now, he would have been more distressed. This wasn’t the kind of scenario he’d thought he’d be in, though he was finding most of it so far _very_ enjoyable.

Yuri stroked his palm over Victor’s stomach, up his chest, over his shoulder. Then he had the ice bowl at hand, deft fingers fishing for one of the ice chips to hold between his teeth. He took his time, tracing along Victor’s collarbone, breathing out to bring that immediate temperature contrast into sharp focus.

Victor struggled to keep his eyes opened and focused on Yuri. He knew ice, and he knew the cold. He wasn’t overly fond of _the_ cold, but he dealt with it, finding it difficult to completely escape when he lived his life on the ice.

This was and wasn’t the same thing. He broke out in gooseflesh, the small hairs of his body standing on end, sending a shudder through to his core. With the drag of ice around his nipple, he felt himself stiffen; his groin followed suit, improbably/ Yuri didn’t let up in his attentions by mouth, taking his sweet time and changing ice chips as they melted, leaving damp trails all over Victor’s body. He found it impossibly arousing, straining up against Yuri when he leaned in, finding some small friction incidentally, but never enough.

Yuri traced lines all across Victor’s body, down lower, onto his legs. Victor was fully erect as Yuri swallowed the last remnant of the ice cube he’d been using, presenting an interesting distraction as he knelt between Victor’s legs.

Dragging the whole bowl closer to where he was now working, he reached for another ice chip, keeping it in hand. Tracing it down over Victor’s inner thigh, then by his scrotum, over his perineum, over his anus. Victor jerked upward at that one, calling out in a moan loud enough it caught him by surprise. There was no time to recover, though the ice wasn’t run over his anus again right away. Yuri was setting the ice to the said, praising Victor for being so vocal, and then his mouth was opening, cool hand stroking up over Victor’s shaft.

The doubling of chill sensations was enough to get Victor lifting his hips up off the bed, planting his feet in surprised response. He barely had time to register what had happened before Yuri was humming approval in his throat, taking Victor in his mouth while working in tandem with his hand. If it kept up like this, so intense that he was starting to shake from responsiveness alone, he wasn’t going to last long.

Yuri shifted up, licking and nipping his way up Victor’s chest until he pulled away, hand stroking Victor with a building speed. Lubricant helped smooth the process, but even that Victor barely noticed. It was the shock of Yuri switching hands in charge of stroking that lit a fire within; the shock of cold from the hand Yuri had temporarily submerged in the ice-cold water suddenly encircling a very warm, very aroused penis. Victor’s hips jerked up from the bed, fucking into Yuri’s hand with a heartfelt groan. “Just like that, Victor. You sound so beautiful,” Yuri said, nipping at the skin of his chest. “Again.”

Victor complied, finding it altogether too easy. His hands were fisted in the comforter again, dragging them up and around his shoulders, an impromptu and unnecessary nest by circumstance. He kept his eyes on Yuri, finding it overwhelmingly erotic, from watching Yuri take him into his mouth, to having him closer, almost in kissing distance, his hand wrapped around Victor’s member and stroking both the fire and the shocking burn of chill.

He had no idea how long he lasted under Yuri’s careful ministrations and verbal encouragements; only that when he went crashing over the edge of arousal into release, Yuri was right there, holding onto him, hand capped over his dick as he went stiff and shuddered through the waves of his orgasm. Watching Yuri, holding on to Yuri, the whole time.

Victor panted after his climaxing, feeling a little like he was hearing something tinny ringing in his ears. He shook his head, clearing the thought as he gazed on Yuri, letting his eyes drag lower, taking in the shape of his erection. Victor licked his lips, shifting underneath Yuri as Yuri pulled back. 

“Do I get dessert?” he asked, eyes flicking deliberately lower. Yuri regarded him, lips slowly pulling into a soft, considering smile.

“Ask nicely,” he said, shifting away, reaching for one of the towels he’d set aside for cleanup. Taking care of his hand, returning to take care of cleaning Victor’s groin and abdomen as well, he ignored the ache of his own arousal. His erection bobbed as he moved, tilting a little to the left.

“Yuri, may I please have my dessert?” Victor shifted off the pillows, Yuri looking up but making no move to stop him. Victor waited, resting on his folded legs, feeling the lassitude of his orgasm as a pleasant afterglow. 

Yuri regarded him for another moment, slowly rising up on his knees, shins pressed against the mattress behind him. “Come here,” he said, making a familiar scooping motion. Victor complied, moving closer on hands and knees.

Yuri’s hand dropped down to his erection, stroking his shaft. He pressed down on iit at an angle, offered out to Victor. “Yes, you may.”

Victor smiled, genuinely happy. Yuri couldn’t keep himself from blushing as Victor came closer, bringing a hand up to stroke down the length of Yuri’s member, his other hand sliding on the chains looped over Yuri’s ass, massaging muscle between the delicate seeming gold. Yuri breathed in hard, surprised at the enthusiasm, though he knew he shouldn’t have been. Victor never did anything in half measures. 

Yuri reached out, holding on to Victor in part to keep himself steady. Victor used his mouth and tongue to lave over the head of Yuri’s dick, the hand not at Yuri’s backside dragging nails down Yuri’s inner thighs, stroking over his scrotum, pressing along the length of his perineum. It was a sudden onslaught of sensation when Yuri had been near-painfully aroused by the time Victor was coming undone under Yuri’s hands and mouth; Yuri fought to keep himself from shallow thrusting forward into Victor’s mouth. He managed, barely; breathing out in a shudder of air and praising Victor right before his own climax crashed over him.

Victor held Yuri steady with one arm; his other hand at the base of Yuri’s shaft, his mouth still covering the head and then some. There was something incredibly fulfilling in that moment, taking all of his lover’s come and swallowing it as if it were half as tasty as he wished it were. It didn’t matter. It was part of Yuri, in a sense, and the eroticism behind swallowing while he gazed up at the pleasure-hazed look on his fiance’s face had Victor’s penis twitching in interest.

He pulled his head away, licking his lips and swallowing convulsively a few times. “How are you doing?” he asked, Yuri coming down to rest on his haunches. Victor tugged them both sideways, curling up around Yuri, nuzzling in against his ear.

“All green,” Yuri said after a beat. The excess of confidence, the Eros he’d been relying on, had slowly slipped away. Now he was a softened stomach-line and a wondering expression as he cuddled back up against Victor. “How about you?”

“Green.” He exhaled against Yuri’s head, loving the tickle of his hair on his face. 

Yuri squirmed his way around to face Victor, reaching out to brush the hair off his face. “You were wonderful. You _are_ wonderful.”

Victor pressed the tip of his nose to Yuri’s, not altogether sure they’d stuck to any one plan with this afternoon’s encounter. It bore discussing, both now and later. “So are you.”

Yuri smiled, expression growing fond. He tucked his hair behind his ear again, cupping the side of his face. “Let’s cuddle for a while. It’s only…” he lifted his head, looking for the clock on the sidetable. “Nineteen hundred, I think. Can you read that thing?”

Victor craned over his shoulder to see the same device. “Looks like nineteen hundred.”

“Good. We have time. We can shower in a while.”

They stayed that way, curled up and facing each other, talking over some of what it’d been like, some of what hadn’t been related to the ice at all. Admitting and acknowledging what they’d noticed they liked, thinking about possibilities in the future.

They showered together, intimate and respectful; it set the rest of the tone for their evening, from when they made their way to the Pont Alexandre III bridge to watch the sunset over the city of Paris, Yuri leaning back into Victor, surrounded in his arms, to how they ate, legs nestled between each other, feeding morsels of their meals to each other. Yuri kept himself away from overindulging in alcohol; Victor followed suit after asking if the surprises were all finished for the night.

“Not yet, I hope.”

Yuri’s hope had been one that led them to the night-lit Jardin du Palais Royal, nestled off the road in the midst of buildings. A group of people, all partnered together, were standing and listening to an instructor duo, the music coming from a bluetooth speaker loud enough for them all to hear, once they were close enough.

The group accepted the new arrivals with smiles and calls of _bonsoir_ , accepting their increased numbers as half the attention was turned back on the instructors.

“Where did you find out about this?” Victor asked, voice a low murmur by Yuri’s ear. His eyes sparkled in the dark, beautiful and bright, no matter the fact it was night. Yuri smiled, giving their clasped hands a squeeze. He could tell him, admit to the amount of time he’d spent reading anecdotes and ‘off the beaten path’ blogs, vlogs, cross referencing what he could. The tango lessons, as it turned out to be tango indeed, were an unknown. He’d simply had to take the chance.

So he shrugged, smiling mysteriously in a way he knows drives Victor a little crazy, but mostly amused. Then he held out his hand, offering a bow. “Victor Nikiforov,” he said, bringing his head up to look his love, his fiance, his lover, his world, his soul in the face, “Will you do me the honour of dancing with me?”

Victor took his hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “You can have my entire dance card for the evening, Yuri Katsuki.” They smiled, stepping closer, Victor giving Yuri the lead from the start; they traded off throughout the night, dancing until the speakers had died, most of the locals had left, and it was left to them and Paris, this city of brilliant lights, to guide their way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was 26 pages by the time i finished and that is why it took me longer, please send help, i'm laughing
> 
> disclaimer: i'm so tired i'm not sure what makes sense or not, please feel free always to correct me or give a heads up if i've gone horribly offrails, thank you!


	7. positions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Yuri spend their last full day in Paris in their flat, unable to keep their hands off each other and enjoying the chance to simply settle down and relax goofing off on the internet or napping as they please.
> 
> Then they go to dinner, and Yuri ups the ante all over again.

Their last full day in Paris dawned in warming golds, rays of light reaching across an expanse of fading black-blues until the shadows were banished from the sky, sent to scatter across the surfaces of buildings and streets below. Yuri came slowly awake, opening his eyes to find Victor watching him rouse, head propped up on their shared pillow. 

“Morning.”

Victor’s lips curled into a hint of a smile, his fingers lifting from where they curled by his chin to wave. “Sleeping Beauty awakes.”

Yuri wrinkled his nose, turning his face further into his pillow to hide the silly smile that stole onto his face. It was too early for jokes. “Ngh.”

Victor shifted closer, stroking a hand over Yuri’s hair, tucking stray tendrils behind his ear. “No fair, Yuri.” Pouting his lips, Victor watched the side of Yuri’s face, making a low whining sound until Yuri eventually turns his face back toward Victor. One squinting brown eye regarded Victor from a forest of dark hair as he spoke.

“You’re whining..”

“I’m _pining_.”

“Pining for what?” Yuri squinted harder, trying to find another meaning for the word than those he knew.

“My boyfriend and fiance to wake up so I won’t be lonely,” Victor said, sounding so matter of fact that Yuri blinked, snorting into his pillow. He pulled his head up, regarding Victor and the flutter of his eyelashes.

He nestled his head back against his pillow. “‘m going back to sleep,” he said, closing his eyes. He tried to refrain from smiling as he heard Victor gasp, felt his fingers tweak the tip of Yuri’s newly revealed nose. Victor flopped himself onto his back with a stirring and pulling of the sheets, arm flopping down on the other side of the mattress with an impressive _whoosh-thump._

“I’ve been betrayed for the little death,” he bemoaned, sighing dramatically and staring up at the ceiling. There was no bite behind his words, but the hint of petulance was almost reassuring to Yuri. On some level, selfish as it was, he liked knowing his company was wanted.

Victor’s words confused him, prompting him into opening one eye again to stare across at him. “ _La petite mort?_ ” Chris had thrown the term around often enough that eventually Yuri had investigated the meaning on his own, albeit not literally.

Victor’s dramatics were interrupted with a pause, as if he wasn’t certain he’d heard right. He turned his head back toward Yuri, eyebrows lifted up toward his hairline. “If that’s what you’re looking for, why are you still over there?”

Yuri found the motivation in him to reach over Victor’s head and tug one of the other pillows down, gently plopping it down over Victor’s face. He had to endure Victor’s whining his name after, “ _Yuuuri!_ ” feeling no real remorse so much as amusement and resignation at his leaving the pleasant realm of rest.

He looked back to Victor as Victor had the other pillow shoved off to the side, giving Yuri his second best set of injured, sad puppy eyes. Which wasn’t fair, not in the slightest. “Victor, don’t look at me like that,” Yuri half groaned, slowly propping himself up to get a better look at his face. 

Victor tipped his head to the side, still giving Yuri his second best puppy eyes. (His very best puppy eyes only appeared when he _really_ wanted something Yuri wasn’t inclined toward. Like new ties.

Expensive new ties.

He sighed, lips curling up at the corners for the time it took him to haul over and slide into Victor’s arms. He buried his face next to Victor’s neck, breathing in. “It’s not fair.” His lament came late, Victor humming his pleasure as he wiggled around, hooking his arms around Yuri’s back, legs partly tangled in the sheets, kept close together.

“I like the feeling of you like this,” Victor said, ignoring the question of fair or not when it came to puppy eyes and cuddles, tracing lazy geometries against Yuri’s back. “Your weight keeping me anchored. Sexy,” he added, lips quirked into a coy grin when Yuri lifted his eyebrows in quiet disbelief. 

“You wanted me awake and rolled over on top of you so you could say I’m your anchor.” He was torn between finding that sweet, and finding it… like being something that weighed Victor down. Which was precisely the fear that had him pushing Victor away and back onto the ice at the end of last year.

Victor gave a small nod of his head, brushing Yuri’s bangs back off his forehead. “You are,” he said. “Keeping me from drifting off to sea or smashing apart on the shore.”

What a horrifying and far too literal thought. “You weren’t going to smash apart on anything,” Yuri said, protesting. He lifted his chin to better look Victor in the eyes. 

“I was drifting,” Victor said, a touch of seriousness in his eyes. “Then there was you.” He ran his fingers back through Yuri’s hair, cupping the back of Yuri’s head. His eyes softened, the soft warmth of his affection almost tangible. Yuri felt his breath catch in his throat, captivated by his expression. He didn’t resist when Victor tugged him down for a sweet, lingering kiss.

He didn’t have words he could pin down to give Victor. Only stumbling phrases, even if he’d been speaking in his native tongue. Yuri had been drifting too, trying to rediscover his love for skating, when Victor had crash landed into his life. There’d been no way at the time for him to know that it wasn’t a plan born out of Victor’s mysterious mind; that Yuri himself had planted the seeds, watered the soil, then left to spiral down into self-aggravated failure while the germination carried on.

So he didn’t have the words now, just as he hadn’t had words to explain his reaction to Victor in his family’s outdoor spring. Just as he hadn’t known what words to use, even when he thought he was setting Victor free to be more fully himself than he could be, tied down to Yuri.

Yet here he was tangled up in Yuri’s life, where Victor wanted to be, improbably enough. 

He leaned in, returning slow and languid kisses with Victor. _Then there was you_. His fingers stroked through Victor’s hair, nails grazing light against his scalp as his lips parted, inviting Victor to help deepen each kiss.

They didn’t speak, trailing kisses over cheeks and jawlines; Yuri nuzzling and nipping and kissing his way down Victor’s neck, to his shoulder. He lingered over sensitive places, like the spot near Victor’s neck, sucking until Victor’s breath hitched and he arched upward, as languid and unhurried as their kissing had been that morning. Victor’s hands slid down off Yuri’s back, along his sides as Yuri gave another slow roll of his hips forward. Pushing up the hem of Yuri’s shirt, he hooked his thumbs into the material of his underwear, sliding them lower. Moving down in degrees, freeing Yuri’s arousal so he could feel its firm warmth against his bare skin.

They made love slow and unhurried in the soft light of dawn, Victor’s ankles hooked over one another, Yuri sliding and thrusting with small, rolling movements between the slick, warm heaven of Victor’s thighs. Yuri’s arms wrapped around Victor’s neck; Victor’s arms around Yuri’s chest, holding him close, occassionally rocking his hips up as Yuri pressed through his clenched thighs.

Kisses were punctuated by soft exclamations; laboured breathing stuttering as Yuri climbed toward his own plateau. There was a lack of the desperation that seemed to come with so many of their encounters over the last week. Yuri was kissing Victor full on the mouth when his release hit, tripped by nothing more or less than the clench of muscles in Victor’s thighs and the press of him up underneath him. Yuri’s hips shuddered as he went tense, toes curling almost painfully, swept up and away in the warm crest of his climax.

He rested his full weight on Victor, feeling the evidence of Victor’s arousal caught between them; Victor made a pleased sound in the back of his throat, kissing Yuri’s face, nuzzling the side of his head. He was kind enough to hold still otherwise, allowing Yuri to stay as he was without wincing away from overstimulation; he rolled them over to the side, pulling Victor on top, sending the blankets and sheets winding more tightly around them both.

“Shower,” he said, pressing his lips against Victor’s kiss-swollen lips. Requesting for the both of them, knowing they’d need to toss the sheets into the washing machine again. They’ve been messy this week in ways he hadn’t thought about too much before.

Victor chuckled, a rumble that sent a shiver through Yuri’s core, his dick twitching in singleminded interest. Stupid, unreasonable thing, and unimportant. Yuri’s thoughts were caught up in Victor, in what he wanted to give in return for this, for everything. His heart, his life, the effort on the ice, the effort on the streets. His effort and love here, too, even if it was never a demand Yuri felt he couldn’t meet, never felt pressured into pulling away from. Every time he started, Victor was there, calm, meeting him where he was at the moment. Not the most experienced coach, and not, technically, the most experienced fiance, but he was Yuri’s, as Yuri was his. That was more than enough to inspire them to keep trying. To keep learning. 

To keep exploring as they untangled themselves from the sheets, always touching, a hand to an arm, a back, a leg pressed up against a leg, Victor pressing kisses to Yuri’s shoulders, his chest, his stomach, Yuri pushing back against him to pepper kisses over his collarbone, his abdomen, his arms. They left the bed a mess, comforter draping down onto the floor, sheets dragged out after them as they tripped and stumbled their way out the door toward the bathroom. 

Yuri caught Victor in his arms and pulled him away from hitting the corner of the sink with his hip, sending them both stumbling to the other side of the bathroom, Yuri’s back hitting against the wall, Victor’s chest crushed against Yuri’s. He laughed; a moment after, Yuri joined in, wheezing in his amusement.

Kissing as they stepped into the shower, they broke apart for long enough to each find a showerhead and turn its knobs, cold water crashing down over them. Their mutual cries of surprise left them jolting up, Victor spinning and latching on to Yuri with an exaggerated whine. “Cold!”

“Careful!” Yuri managed to keep them standing, laughing after his brief spike of panic paired with the cold cut through the heated fog of his arousal. Victor seemed immune, or at least uncaring, nuzzling at Yuri’s neck as the water warmed. 

Water fell like rain overhead, running in warm rivulets over their shoulders, down their backs, between their chests. Victor pouted as Yuri wiggled away, following after him, running his hands over his sides, around the curve of his bottom. Laughing protest from Yuri turned into the artful wielding of a wash towel wetted and soaped, scrubbing circles against Victor’s stomach. 

“Yuuuri,” he whined as Yuri crouched down, dragging the washcloth down the outside edge of Victor’s leg. His lover seemed unaffected by the whine; not the case, but if he didn’t look up, then no amount of puppy-dog eyes thrown his way would be able to sway him from his present course of action.

“That’s my name,” he said instead, lips curling up into a wry grin before he tapped on the back of Victor’s knee. “Foot, please.”

“Please tell me this is a new kink we’re investigating,” Victor said, sighing dreamily as he lifted his foot for Yuri. Hand braced against the sea-green tiles of the wall, Victor looked down, watching Yuri as his hand wrapped around Victor’s ankle. He wished he could better feel the way Yuri ran the washcloth over Victor’s foot; his feet were far from the most sensitive part of his anatomy, let alone these days. He stopped whining, more interested in watching Yuri than in convincing him to stand. 

Yuri took great care running his cloth over Victor’s heel, stroking along the arch of his foot, out toward his toes. His movements were almost reverential, tender and deliberate, Yuri’s focus unwavering, absolute. The sight was both stirring and heartachingly sweet. Victor shivered, leaning his weight into the hand supporting him against the wall. How was he going to survive a lifetime with Yuri?

How could he survive a lifetime without?

There was no weight behind the thought or the possibility. They didn’t need the glint of gold around their ring fingers to define the bonds between them. They didn’t _need_ the civil ceremony and signing witnesses to say they were going to remain by each other’s sides. They didn’t need coy remarks about the journey of life or love to already know both were difficult and fraught with pain. They were fraught with incredible joy too. With happiness that was larger than either of them on their own. With dreams borne on two sets of shoulders, so much lighter, for the sharing.

Yuri set Victor’s foot back on the wet tiles, dragging his washcloth up and over his shin, his calf. Attentive and thorough, leaning in to brush his lips against Victor’s thigh as he scrubbed in gentle, firm circles behind Victor’s knee, then around the front.

Victor’s breath caught in his throat when Yuri’s eyes flicked up, peering into his face for just a moment. There was an openness in Yuri’s expression, a soft smile, warm eyes. Love, Victor knew it was love. He could see it every day when he caught an unexpected glimpse of himself in the mirror; on each morning when Yuri first started to wake, turning to Victor and saying, softly, “You’re really here.”

“I’m really here,” he would say, and their fingers would entangle, staring into each other’s eyes. Those were good mornings.

Every morning was a good morning, when he was with Yuri. _This_ morning was a good morning, his mind claimed, as Yuri rubbed his gentle circles up Victor’s inner thigh. Cleaning him off, lifting his head to watch as he slid the sudsy washcloth between Victor’s thighs, stroking over his perineum, over his scrotum, cradling his testes. Victor kept his eyes on Yuri’s face, on the way his head tipped to the side, the dart of Yuri’s tongue out, tracing his lower lip, then biting down on it.

He shivered, heat pooling in his groin once again. The cold shock of water and the rest had calmed him down, at least in this way. Now the pleasure of Yuri’s hands guiding the cloth over his skin, now back down his inner thigh, toward his knee, was stoking his arousal all over again.

Victor lifted his foot on cue, swallowing and holding himself upright, wanting more. More caresses, more kisses, more of Yuri like this, attentive and sweet, rising from his crouch, sliding his washcloth up along the outside edge of Victor’s right leg, over his thigh, his hip, then inward. He stood still under Yuri’s touch, reaching for his love and letting him slip away again, a coy smile turning his lips up at the corners. Playful Yuri was one of Victor’s favourite Yuri’s.

(Every Yuri was one of Victor’s favourite Yuri’s.)

“Have I told you recently you’re a tease?”

Yuri’s lips twitched. “I have no idea what you mean.” He scrubbed the cloth over Victor’s shoulder, then behind it, rubbing circles across the top of Victor’s back. It brought him flush against Victor’s front, soap running down in the gentle fall of water from above. “I’m thorough,” he said, almost managing to look serious. Managing to sound closer to serious as he leaned in, rubbing circles along Victor’s spine, at his midback. “I don’t want to miss any part of you.” He ran his free hand over the swell of Victor’s backside, gripping muscle, giving a generous squeeze as he rubbed himself along Victor’s erection, encouraging it along. 

Victor was kissing Yuri again before he could stop himself, one hand at the back of Yuri’s neck, resting on top of the slicked back, wet hair. The other hand slid around his side, palm pressed against his lower back to hold him close as Victor ground against him.

Yuri parted his lips, inviting the deepened kisses Victor offered; letting the washcloth slide down over Victor’s backside before letting it drop from his hand. He kneaded the muscle of Victor’s backside, nudging one leg between Victor’s as he walked him backward, until he was pressed up against the shockingly cool surface of the tiled shower wall.

Nuzzling against Victor’s ear, Yuri lipped at his earlobe, taking it in his mouth and sucking while one hand slid between them. He stroked down, past Victor’s erection, cupping his testes and pulling, lightly. Victor gasped, letting himself moan in response; Yuri’s name an approbation on his lips.

Yuri kept him from closing his legs, thigh tucked in between Victor’s thighs, running the heel of his palm along the underside of Victor’s length. Forming a ring with his fingers to drag back up, still sucking on his earlobe, humming in pleasure as Victor rocked his hips forward, holding Yuri close. Tipping his head back to rest against the time, sucking in air as greedily as Yuri devoured his every response, the broken breaths, the pleased surprise in his gasps, the gravely tone of his voice when he said Yuri’s name again and again.

He took his time bringing Victor to climax, the spray of water over their bodies keeping them from cooling down too soon. Yuri kept him pinned up against the wall, kissing back along the line of his neck to his shoulder, nibbling and mouthing as he went along. When he had brought Victor almost to that line, he backed off, once, then twice, until Victor was cursing _tease_ under his breath and asking, _begging_ , “Yuri, _please._ ”

He loved that raw edge in Victor’s voice, rolling his wrist and picking up speed, driving Victor right over the precipice of his climax, holding him as he went tense and shuddered, jerking against Yuri and the wall as he came, crying out loud enough to embarrass _Yuri_.

“Um,” he said, holding Victor in the afterglow, before Victor had found a way to make the jelly in his knees set back into something weight bearing, “That was… good?”

Victor tipped his head forward, blinking at Yuri through his afterglow. He let his head tip further forward still, resting against Yuri’s shoulder. The soft hiss of the water falling was a pleasant sort of white noise as he laughed, soft and low. “Yes,” he said, “ _Very_ good. You complete, total tease.” 

Yuri laughed, feeling a blush steal over his features, his own reawakened arousal a pleasant ache, but not one he wanted to address. “Maybe,” he admitted at last. “But I think you liked it.”

“I liked it,” Victor agreed without a pause, lifting his head to capture Yuri’s gaze with his own. “I’m going to pay you back for that, one of these days.”

He felt a sense of happy dread at the thought. “Someday,” he agreed, lips pulling up into a smirk. “Better be a promise, Victor.”

“Oh, it is.” Victor pressed his forehead against Yuri’s, closing his eyes and smiling, happy in a soul-deep way. “One I won’t forget.”

They finished bathing at last, bundling themselves in robes, padding around the flat in a late attempt at making lunch that turned into brunch with the spare ingredients they’d bought over the course of the week. It was an officially lazy day; they didn’t have any pressing desire to leave the flat, discussing plans for dinner. Victor made a call, smiling and flashing Yuri a thumbs up after his second company on the phone. “Reservations for two on the light’s cruise.” Dinner on the Seine, on one of the boats that traversed its loop up and down the river.

Which left them with a day to fill with cuddling on the couch, Victor’s chin hooked over Yuri’s shoulder, watching him play through one of his mobile games; their scrolling through Instagram to see what their friends have posted, commenting on Yuri Plisetsky’s post with his cat, Potya, leaping up to catch a moth. They scrolled through the replies to the photos they’d been posting periodically; Victor translating the French and Russian, Yuri translating the Japanese. Then they switched, Victor trying to identify any of the characters, Yuri attempting to suss out the meaning in Cryllic. 

They fed each other fruits and tiny pastries by hand, making tea but forgetting about the water in its iron kettle twice before meeting with success. Settling down to watch the foot traffic on the streets below, everything felt quiet, almost hazy; the heat of the summer weather was a balm of sorts, lulling them into resting, Yuri’s head resting on Victor’s shoulder, Victor’s arm slung around the back of his shoulders, hooking around his far arm. The sheets came out of the dryer and they remade the bed, Victor tackling Yuri down for a light doze that lasted for two hours. Victor had meant for it to be closer to twenty minutes.

As the hour grew later, Yuri glanced at the clock and wondered out loud how long it’d take them to get to where the boat launched. It was an idle question that lit Victor up like a firefly, winking at Yuri and shining as he stood and spun on the balls of his foot. “This will be fun!”

Getting dressed to head out for dinner was surprisingly difficult, Yuri wanting to stay in to save himself on having to wear anything else, Victor laughing and cajoling him just enough to get him back on his feet. With no strict dress code, they dressed comfortably but well, Yuri running a comb through his hair until the mess of it was more aligned to a _pleasant_ mess, not the mess of the recently awoken.

The sun was setting as they made their way through the city along the bank of the Seine, headed for the launch point; mingling with the handfuls of other couples planning to dine, some for the first time, others for a second, one for a fifth. “I love seeing the lights from the river,” she said, leaning against one of her lovers. The other lover, another attractive woman in her forties, flashed them a smile, shrugging her shoulders. The man propping the first woman up simply sighed.

“She kept insisting, but if it’s what she wants to do, we couldn’t keep saying now.” _That’s love,_ he said, speaking in French. _Wonderful and amazing and filled with negotiation skills to put many diplomats to shame._

The boat was close to full, most tables filled, but more underneath the encased glass end of the boat; a breeze stirred the night air, leaving the open sky over the terrace where Yuri and Victor were sat receptive to the movement of the wind. The city’s lights were twinkling into existence along the riverbanks.

Pulling away from the cobblestone street at the riverbank, their waiter brought out a glass of champagne for each of them, along with the appetiser plate. 

“What did you ask him for?” Yuri said, watching their waiter leave again after a polite inquiry from Victor.

Victor smiled, picking up his glass of champagne. “For water. Did you want any wine to go with dinner? The full list is larger than the menu.” Everyone had to have proper priorities, after all.

The tour of the river at night was beautiful, seeing some of the same places they’d walked up to and around from another angle, in a different light. Yuri was distracted, looking p and watching the embankments, changing his central focus on prompting from their waiter sometimes, from Victor at others. In his shifting, his legs bumped up against Victor’s, staying there with a faint smile of apology.

Victor didn’t mind. He relaxed into watching Yuri take in the lights of Paris as if they hadn’t seen many of them over the last week. He had to admit there was a certain magic to the way they saw everything from on the water, lights reflecting off the moving surface they skimmed over, on the back of their long-lived boat. When he first felt Yuri’s foot brushing against his leg, he figured it was Yuri stretching. Their table was fairly small, cramped in like the rest to maximize on space and view, both. Victor let his knee fall outward, giving Yuri space to slide past his calf.

Only Yuri’s foot didn’t slide past Victor. In fact, Yuri’s foot wasn’t wearing a _shoe_. Victor noticed when he felt something curl around the back of his calf, gently dragging higher. He blinked and looked across the table, to where Yuri rested his chin in his hand and glanced off over the side of the terrace. If his lips hadn’t been curved into a slight smirk, Victor might have believed he wasn’t fully aware of what he was doing.

He knew better. “Yuri,” he gasped, flashing him a smile and a heavier look from behind half open eyes. The expression passed as their waiter returned, Victor ordering a wine to pair with what Yuri had selected for dinner; orders placed, it became a waiting game along with good conversation and attempted photographs.

Yuri shifted in his seat, better facing Victor as Victor spoke. Slowly, Yuri’s foot traced up to Victor’s knee, Victor reaching for his water to take a sip. He sets his glass back down with a little too much force as Yuri’s foot slides up along the inseam of his pants, headed straight for his groin.

Not generally a problem, if Victor weren’t turned on by what was happening. They were in public, only the drape of the tablecloth over both their laps and down to just above the floor of the terrace to keep things from being obvious and apparent. Yuri was finding some means of doing what he was without more than a soft bump against the underside of the table as he shifted his hip and knee by extension.

Victor struggled to maintain conversation without being totally derailed as his pants grew tighter in the front, Yuri’s sock-covered foot gently, purposefully, rolling over Victor’s increasing hardness. Yuri’s poker face was slipping further and further, the secretive smile on his lips a cross with almost something of worry. Victor let his hand drop to his lap for a moment, adjusting his napkin. He gave a squeeze of Yuri’s foot, smiling slow and wry in return, patting the top of his foot after.

Yuri swallowed, taking the encouragement and running with it. He trusted Victor would tell him to stop if he needed him to stop.

By the time they were dining on their main course, Victor was attempting not to make any untoward noises. He’d drained his glass of champagne and his glass of iced water; the wine was served, and he felt close to tempted to drain that as well. Yuri let up some, back to brushing along his inside thigh, before his foot found its way back to Victor’s crotch, seeming to know too well what it wanted to do.

By the time _dessert_ was served, Victor wondered if he wasn’t planning to marry some sort of evil genius. Yuri had him subtly rocking his hips forward against the pleasant friction of his foot stroking up over his captive length; not intense sensation, but diffuse and distracting.

Victor would have been hard pressed to say what they’d talked about, or what they’d seen, let alone what photographs they’d taken the rest of the evening. He had a half formed thought to drape his coat over his arm, holding it against his stomach when they were disembarking to keep his obvious state of arousal from being broadcast to everyone with eyes and a tendency to look south of the beltline.

He linked hands with Yuri as they walked back toward their flat, stopping to pull him close only once under the flickering light of a street lamp. He didn’t hold back, pouring his arousal and the edge of frustration at being teased all dinner for uncertain purposes, other than Yuri testing limits on what he was allowed to do, and what he liked doing. Yuri felt his head reeling after Victor ended their kiss, blinking up and smiling in a goofy manner before shaking his head, licking his lips and fluttering his lashes. It always worked on him when Victor did it that way. In a fair world, he’d have a fraction of the same impact.

“Let’s go home,” he said, and Victor nodded his head, looking a little dazed, more than a little happy. They set off walking, hands swinging gently between them, Victor periodically leaning over to press a kiss to Yuri’s cheek.

They managed to behave for the most part, even making it back to the building their flat was located within before finding it impossible to maintain any sort of distance for any longer. Stepping in the elevator, Yuri pulled Victor closer, spinning to face him as the elevator doors started sliding closed.

Victor was already leaning in, capturing Yuri’s lips in a hot, demanding kiss, the raw edge he’d been feeling since Yuri’d started playing around at dinner surging to the forefront.

“You’re the worst tease,” he said as Yuri nudged him back against the elevator wall, hooking a hand around the back of his neck to pull him into another deep kiss.

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” Yuri said between kisses, capturing Victor’s lower lip between his teeth, leaning back. His tongue traces along the length of Victor’s captured lip before Yuri’s lips closed and he was sucking, Victor’s eyes fluttering closed. Yuri had one hand on his ass when the elevator doors dinged, the lift slowing as they reached their floor. Without looking back, Yuri tugged Victor along with him, stepping into a thankfully empty hall. He pulled Victor into another kiss, demanding, the two of them starting to stumble toward their door. They were going too slow, at least in Yuri’s mind. Victor seemed to share that opinion, taking Yuri’s hand and striding toward their flat door.

Yuri fumbled the keys twice before he managed to jam them home, turning the knob and letting them spill into the darkened interior. He left the keys in the door when he first closed it, realising his mistake with a frustrated groan, yanking the door open to reclaim them once more. Victor was already stepping out of his shoes; Yuri kicked his own off and tossed the keys onto the table, surging forward and placing both hands on Victor’s cheeks, dragging him into another passionate kiss. Yuri took two steps forward, nudging Victor back until he was pressed against the wall once again. Something about the day seemed to provoke this in Yuri; maybe the same strange series of responses that lead to Yuri deciding to run his hands down over Victor’s chest, then around his hips, and lower. Yuri nudged one leg between Victor’s, hands coming to rest beneath the curve of Victor’s buttocks. He tugged Victor closer, bending just enough to start lifting Victor, using the wall as a steadying force.

Victor took the cue for what it was, trusting Yuri to support his weight as he leaned back and braced himself against the wall. With a grunt of effort after their kisses took a temporary stop, Yuri hauled Victor up enough for him to wrap his legs around Yuri’s hips.

They made out against the wall for several minutes, Yuri holding Victor up without any apparent hint of losing strength. When he moved, it was knowing that the dynamics making this work out near the front door couldn’t last forever; eventually Yuri would tire. He used his knee to rock them back, away from the wall, hupping Victor up to get a better hold on his legs. The whole was met with Victor’s arms tightening around Yuri’s neck, laughing out in sudden, spontaneous joy.

“Yuri!”

The laughter dissolved into hungry kisses as Yuri carried them step by step across the living room. He managed to avoid the coffee table as he carried Victor into the bedroom, setting him down on bed without tipping himself over as well.

They broke apart for that moment, Yuri pulling his shirt up and over his head, fumbling with the latch of his pants until he was squirming out of those, too. His socks were pulled off with a frustrated noise, his underwear pulled down and still caught around one ankle when he joined the quick-stripping Victor on the bed, hand out and skimming across the warmth of his chest. Yuri nodded his head further up the bed, Victor scooting back, still sitting up. Yuri pressed down with his hand.

“You said you wanted me on top before, didn’t you?”

Victor flopped backward with wide eyes, pupils blown with desire. He reached out toward the side table, turning on his side and stretching a little further to curl his fingers around the lube that sat there in easy reach. He rolled onto the flat of his back once again, uncapping the lubricant.

Yuri ran one hand over Victor’s legs, nudging them closer as he went back up onto his knees, shuffling to the side to straddle Victor’s thighs. He held his hand out, Victor obliging by squeezing out a generous portion of lubricant, capping the bottle and dropping it to the side.

Yuri settled himself down, stroking himself and Victor in turns to full arousal. Watching Victor like this was enchanting, no, captivating; Yuri held them both in hand while his lover reached out, grabbing hold of Yuri’s knees, pressing himself back into the mattress as Yuri rocked his hips forward.

Victor moaned with abandon, hands traveling up Yuri’s thighs, reaching for him as Yuri ground down. “Yuri,” was Victor’s pleading refrain, “Kiss me.”

Yuri found it easy to comply, bracing one hand against the mattress by Victor’s shoulder as he leaned in and met his lover in a hungry kiss. Keeping the rocking of his hips and the hold of his hand over both their erections, he sought out the friction they both craved. Victor’s hands wouldn’t stay still, one running through Yuri’s hair one moment, curling around the back of his neck the next; the other stroking along his arm, digging nails into his back with a gasp as Yuri slid along his length _just_ right.

Yuri groaned in turn, kissing Victor hard as he jerked his hips forward again, picking up speed and changing the rhythm and tempo of their lovemaking. Victor’s hands were both on his back now, nails dragging down as Yuri rocked up, snapping his hips forward into his fist, sliding his hand down and up to run over Victor’s head, too.

“Like that,” Victor said, breathing hard as Yuri’s hand and hips moved in complementary directions. “Oh, _yes_ , like that, Yuri. My amazing, attractive, incredible fiance — _ah!_ ”

Victor tossed his head back, arching up as Yuri angled down. “Ah, _Victor_ ,” he called out, slipping up as his rhythm grew a touch more ragged, reaching for the release he wants for both of them. Their timing would be off; Yuri could tell, feeling his toes curl as he thrust into his hand, sliding against Victor’s hard length and feeling the shiver before he was coming, hoping he’d braced well enough to ride it out.

He hadn’t, but Victor caught him as he collapsed forward onto his elbow, pressing kisses to his face, shuddering in turn as Yuri shifted his grip to take hold of Victor alone. They weren’t quite touching, some distance preserved between their torsos; Victor arched up, close to eliminating that distance, as Yuri’s hand stroked over Victor’s dick. Victor held on to Yuri as he came, fingers spasming at his sides, head back, mouth open as he cried out in ecstatic release. Yuri felt the warm splatter of come across his stomach, biting back another low moan as Victor slowly came back down to Earth.

He kept that distance between them, sitting back up with reluctance. He stroked his clean hand over Victor’s side, sitting on his thighs once more. Victor shivered, lips curling into a soft, hazy smile.

“Wow,” he said, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Aren’t we a messy pair.” Victor’s eyes roamed over Yuri’s chest. He licked his lips, tipping his head to the side to give him a coy look. “Let me clean up.”

Still breathing hard, head hazy with the afterglow, Yuri took a moment to nod. He moved himself off Victor’s thighs, expecting his lover would scoot to teh side of the bed, help Yuri up, and head toward the bathroom. He didn’t expect Victor to scoot closer and gently topple Yuri back, lowering his head closer to Yuri’s torso. He didn’t expect Victor’s tongue to lave over the splattermarks of his own come.

“Oh my god, Victor,” Yuri said, lifting one hand to his mouth to cover it, caught between shocked surprise and an inexplicable surge of arousal. Embarrassment and hormones were at war with each other as Victor made very effective use of his tongue. He only lifted his head for long enough to check on Yuri’s face, looking for any signs of distress beyond the embarrassment.

He winked, nuzzling against Yuri’s stomach when he saw nothing worrying. “ _Vkusno._ ”

Yuri squirmed and struggled up at that, wrestling with Victor until he had him on his back once more, Yuri pinning his arms over his head. His knees were on either side of Victor’s chest. He bent his head down to kiss Victor once on the lips, scooting himself lower. His dark eyes, always beautiful to Victor, flashed in the darkness of their flat, lit only by the filtered oranges and yellows spilling through the uncovered windows.

“ _Itadakimasu._ ”

Victor never would be able to describe exactly the sensation that traveled down his spine at that phrase, or the paired shiver at the sight of Yuri lowering his head and cleaning his come off Victor’s stomach. It was a force of nature. It was _Yuri_ , and that was, in a word… _amazing_.

* * *

Later that night; after they’d washed up and collected their clothes to rest on the dresser instead of the floor; after they’d brushed their teeth and brought water back to their room; after they’d made out again on the couch and cuddled as the minute hand ticked steadily later; after all of that, they were curled up against each other, foreheads resting together, Victor’s leg between Yuri’s, hands held between them, fingers laced.

“It almost feels like this was some surreal dream,” Yuri said, confessing one of his humming thoughts.

Victor brought their hands up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to Yuri’s knuckles. “You know what’s the even bigger dream to me, Yuri?”

Yuri studied his face, slowly shaking his head. His heart was beating faster, nervous and excited, almost scared for a moment to hear Victor’s answer. The fear subsided. Of the things that might hurt either one of them, this wouldn’t be one of them.

“Waking up to you every day for the rest of my life. How do those vows go? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, long past when death does us part.” He squeezed Yuri’s hands, blue eyes dark in the night, unblinking, warm as his voice was, sure and steady as his hold was. “Because our love is forever,” he said, “You are my forever love.”

Yuri felt the tears pricking at his eyes, his chest constricting, throat feeling thick. He didn’t try to keep himself from crying. It wouldn’t work anyway, not caught up in this mixture of happiness and awe and a touch of sadness too. He wiggled closer, a sob catching in his throat. Victor pulled him into his chest, tucking him close and holding him as he cried. It was a few minutes before he could speak, breathing calmed, heart aching but in the best of ways.

“Because our love is forever,” he said, “And you’re my forever love.”

Victor nodded, making a noise of happy acknowledgement in the back of his throat, holding him close. They drifted off like that, two lovers curled around each other, warm and soft and protected for a moment against the aches and pains of the world they would going to rejoin in the morning.

* * *

Standing in the airport, already through customs, Victor had his arm slung around Yuri’s waist while he watched the crowds moving through. 

“Where do you think it’ll end up this time?”

“Huh?” Yuri looked up from his mobile game, quirking his eyebrows up. 

“Your luggage. Thing it’ll get Shanghai’d again?”

Yuri fixed Victor with a flat, unimpressed luck. “If there’s any justice in the world, it’ll be _your_ luggage they lose this time. In someplace like Dubai.”

Victor considered this, tapping a finger against his chin. “Sounds Dubaious.”

Yuri groaned, briefly casting his eyes toward the ceiling. “No one ever warned me you liked puns.”

“I love you too, Yuri.” Victor pressed a kiss to his temple, laughing as Yuri grumped at his side. 

“Time to head home, at least.”

Victor made a noncommittal noise, head canting to the side. “Are you sure about that?”

“Victor, we’re not taking another vacation. We’re getting back from one!”

He slid his eyes back toward Yuri, breathing out through his nose in a soft snort. “I meant about the home part. Is Saint Petersburg home for you now?”

Yuri didn’t even hesitate to answer. “Anywhere you are is home. Saint Petersburg, Hasetsu, our next competition hotel, wherever. You’re all I need.”

Victor’s eyes widened, his expression showing his surprise. Whatever he’d expected Yuri to say, that hadn’t been it. Not that he minded. As soon as the shock had penetrated, he was throwing his arms around Yuri and crushing him into a hug. “Yuuuuri!”

It was a pretty wonderful note on which to end their time on Paris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DONE. late because i was running on no energy and sleep deprivation, but here is the completed fic for NSFW Victuuri Week 2017. this has been a wild ride! thank you so much to everyone who read this. it's fun figuring out how to write to prompts all over again!
> 
> love and kisses, time to go sleep now.

**Author's Note:**

> Let's see if I get through this whole week with the one prompt (ergo one chapter) a day to round out this full nonsense. I hope you enjoyed! My apologies; this is currently unbeta'd. Crunch time trying to get this all written and posted each day. Whoo!


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